


Ghost in the Halls

by jaimeykay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/F, M/M, PTSD, combat situations, past attempted non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimeykay/pseuds/jaimeykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At twenty-six, Jared didn't expect to be promoted to Captain, but when his father-figure suffers a permanent injury in the line of duty, he suddenly finds himself at the helm of a starship. He gets a good crew: an eccentric engineer, one snarky communications officer, two very-much-in-love navigators, and a first officer who gives Jared less than professional feelings. Sure, things keep going wrong, like pipes bursting, nearly dying by rebels on so-called friendly planets (only once, he swears) and a crew member doing his best to undermine Jared's authority. However, when Jared receives a distress signal from other members of the Navy, he goes against orders to rescue them, putting him and his crew right in the middle of a civil war on a planet with trees as tall as towers, knee-high grass, and people who make even Jared look tiny. There, he finds a conspiracy that goes all the way up the chain of command, forcing Jared to make some quick decisions to save his people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The morning of July 19th is _bright._

Jared squints and rolls over, kicking his covers off. It's hot, but he buries his face in his pillow to block out the sunlight. Totally worth it.

"Didn't think you'd want to spend your twelfth birthday sleeping all day."

Jared's eyes pop open and he sits up. "Steven?"

Steven Williams sits in the chair besides Jared's bed, his display device on his lap. "Yeah, kid," he smiles, putting it on the bedside table. "Been waiting an hour for you to get up."

Jared hasn't hugged anyone for a few years, but he'll make an exception for Steven. Just for Steven. "How did you get leave to come?"

"Being the captain has its advantages, you know," Steven says, hugging Jared back. "Arranged shore leave for _Sydney_ at an opportune time is all."

Jared grins at him and hops back on his bed. "Are you staying the whole day?"

"Whole day's free," Steven confirms.

"You keep saying that you're going to let me go with you for a few weeks when I got older," Jared reminds him. "I'm old enough _now._ "

"We can talk about that later," Steven says, smile faltering briefly. Jared grits his teeth; his mother must have already said no. "I figured you'd want to see my present first."

Jared peers over as Steven pulls a tiny package out of his bag, handing it over. He runs his fingers along the wrapping paper.

"Open it," Steven laughs, and Jared rips it the paper off with one tug, opening the box. It's a device that fits neatly in the palm of his hand, with three colored lights sitting above a small speaker.

"It's a communicator," Steven says. "It belonged to my dad; he gave it to me when I was about your age. 'S a special one, mind you. It only goes to me, so you can chat with me whenever you want to. Just you and me."

Jared stares at it, then up at Steven. "You're giving it to me?"

"Who else?" Steven says, but his smile grows a bit dimmer. "I might not be able to give it to someone of my own" - Jared hears the unspoken _anymore_ " - but you're my son in every way that counts."

Jared's throat closes up and his eyes get a little blurry; he clears his throat and clutches the communicator tightly. "Thanks," is all he can manage to say.

"You're welcome," Steven nods, his smile going crooked. "Now hurry up and get dressed. I'll make you guys some breakfast and then we can head out for the day."

"Mom?"

Steven bites his lip. "She had to work today, kid."

"Right," Jared mumbles. "Okay, I'll get dressed."

"Good kid," Steven says, ruffling his hair. Jared glares at him as he leaves the room and smoothes it back down.

Jared takes another look at the comm, poking at the lights. It's _awesome._ The only gift he's ever gotten from a father.

Someone taps on his door and opens it; Jared's brother peers inside, his own package in his hands.

"What did he give you?" Sam asks, and Jared holds it out proudly.

"Why do you need that?" Sam says, crossing his arms. "It's stupid."

Jared frowns. "You're just jealous."

Sam rolls his eyes and turns away, muttering under his breath. "Whatever."

"What's that?" Jared says, pointing at the package.

Sam flushes. "Nothing," he says, looking at the comm in Jared's hands.

"Come on," Jared insists. "Let me see!"

The wrap job is sloppier than Steven's, but Jared takes more care in tearing it off, revealing a remote controlled starship.

"Stupid," Sam shrugs.

Jared holds it up to the light. "Did you build this?"

Sam shrugs again, running a skinny hand through his hair. He's still so skinny, even after their doctor wrote up a diet plan for him to follow. Bags sit under his eyes, bags that haven't gone away, even in the past five months. Jared hears him in the middle of the night, the nightmares that Sam thinks he's hiding, and Jared frowns.

"Yeah," Sam says, looking unimpressed, but Jared knows better.

"It's _awesome_ ," Jared says, grinning. "Can we test it out after breakfast?"

"Nah," Sam says. "You and Steven are doing something today."

Jared furrows his brow. "You're not coming?"

"Nah," Sam repeats. He looks out the window. "You guys go ahead. Happy birthday, ass munch."

If Jared had known that Sam would be gone only seven months after Jared's twelfth birthday, he would have insisted further, maybe he would have -

 

_Sorry, man. I don't know what else there is to say. I had to do what I had to do._

_It's not your fault. Maybe in a few years things will be different. Look, until then, just - just don't do anything stupid, okay?_

It's stuck under the fruit bowl. The fucking fruit bowl. His mother's quiet when he tells her, then she hangs up abruptly, leaving Jared standing in the kitchen alone.

She doesn't bring Sam up for the next six years, and Jared doesn't feel particularly inclined to do so, either. He tries to ignore imagining Sam's face when Jared joins the Navy ( _you can't trust them, Jared, they'll fucking leave you to rot in a minute, didn't you learn anything?_ ). Steven's comm is the first (and last) thing he checks for as he packs; he doesn't pay any mind to the sound of disapproval his mother gives when she sees his enlistment form.

His first flight simulation shows him that he can do it. He can do this job. Bright lights blind him and screaming roars in his ears; the ship tips over and over, throwing him to bang into walls. His shoulder pops out of his socket but he barely feels the pain, only focusing on the job at hand.

When he rewires the panel, stabilizing the ship, he turns around, seeing one of his fellow cadets on the floor, mouth opening soundlessly, his face scrunched up in pain. The supervising doctor kneels beside him and runs diagnostics.

"Heart attack," she says. "Get him ready for transport."

Jared watches in horror, but his own heartbeat is slow and steady, and he finds out three hours later that the cadet dropped out of the academy.

Steven calls him that night, and Jared slips out of his dorm room into the hallway.

"Heard you did well."

"Guess so," Jared mumbles. "Not so much for Cadet Jackson."

"Heard about that, too," Steven sighs. "I hate to sound cold, but that's the point of simulations. To see who can measure up and who can't. Some people's physiology is weaker than others. Some mental capacities aren't acceptable."

"I know," Jared says, ducking through some of the other cadets to steal a study lounge.

Steven normally can cheer him up - they talk once a week on their communicator; even when Steven's buried in paperwork, he always makes time for Jared.

This time, though, still feeling unsettled, he sets the comm down on his table.

He had no idea what it would do for him in fourteen years.


	2. Chapter 2

At twenty six, Jared didn't expect much. He barely expected to be an officer at thirty, let alone a first officer. Granted, it was a smaller ship, and Captain Jim Beaver was hardly someone to idolize; more often than not, their missions included importing and exporting, and Beaver preferred to hit the bars as soon as they dropped off their packages.

"You gotta build up that tolerance, kid," he says, one eye squinted. "Yeah? Yeah. You're gonna - you're gonna deal with a ton of shit. Really. The Navy owns your ass now and they'll promote you to Captain sooner or later and you'll have to deal with the shit I do."

"You just dropped off a container of gauze."

"Huh?" Beaver blinks. "Oh. You don't think I deal with shit?" He waves his hands around. "Paperwork and - stuff? Lots of paperwork. People ridin' your ass all the time, telling you to go here and go there and be here at this time and be there at this time. All while they expect you to be a fuckin' _captain_ , the leader, but really, they're the captains. The - the leaders."

"Right."

"I'm serious," Beaver points a finger in Jared's face, right between his eyes. "They'll get you. But you'd probably lick - like it, you sod."

"You're not British."

"See? You're a stickler for details."

Jared pries the glass out of Beaver's hand. "That's great, man. Hey. How about we head out now?"

Beaver blows out a breath and shrugs. "Sure, sure."

Beaver's a heavy bastard, but Jared slings one of his arms around his own shoulders, heaving him up. Beaver slumps against him, and Jared cringes at the smell of Beaver's breath.

"You're a good kid, you know that? If I had a kid of my own, I'd be okay if he were like you."

"You do have a kid."

"Oh. Right," Beaver says. "Boy hates me. Was never around much. He was bitter."

"Yeah, that tends to happen when you're a shitty dad."

Beaver doesn't answer for a moment, and Jared briefly wonders if he's gone too far. Then: "You have a way home?"

"Of course. Do you?"

Beaver sighs. "Of course," he repeats. Pauses. "You're taking me, right?"

Jared's already heading to his bike.

:::

_Wish you could meet this dude, Sam. You'd probably hate him. Or love him, who knows._

_You're still an asshole._

:::

They finally dock for at least three weeks, Beaver clapping a hand on his shoulder and telling him that I'll see you in three days, we'll do some planning, figure out what's up next. Jared tells him great, see you in three days, and staggers back to his room. He fully plans on sleeping every minute possible, his bed with six pillows and fluffy mattress in his mind's eye.

There's a hologram message waiting when he gets back. He contemplates letting it blink on because, hey, _bed_ , but Beaver has always told him never to ignore a message. He'd get a shifty look in his eye whenever Jared asked him what made that become a Beaver rule, and Jared decided he didn't want to know. Reluctantly, he hits play and sinks down on his bed.

It's Admiral Ferris; Jared's only seen her at commencement ceremonies, and it's a little daunting to see her staring at him and only him.

All right, a lot daunting.

The whole message lasts thirteen seconds, with her brusquely telling him that he's to report to her office at 0800 tomorrow morning, no exceptions. Her face is stone cold and she gives a terse "Ferris out" before her image fades away.

Jared blinks, glad he's sitting down, and tries hard not to puke.

What the _hell._

:::

"She wants to _see_ me."

Jeff blows out a breath of cigar smoke; Jared smelled it coming down the hall to the medical bay. "Who? What?"

"Admiral Ferris," Jared says with an exasperated sigh. "Admiral. Ferris. Do you understand what a big deal this is?"

"Look at this beard, kid," Jeff says, pointing at his face. As if Jared's going to look anywhere else. "What color was it when we first met?"

"Uh, brown?"

"Good. How about now?"

"Uh, less brown?"

"Well done. Now, what percentage would you say is because of you?"

"That's just unfair."

Jeff props his legs up on his desk. "Call 'em like I see 'em. Relax, man. You haven't done anything worthy of detention." He pauses. "You haven't done anything worthy of detention, right?"

"No. Well. I don't think so."

Jeff rolls his eyes, sighing. "Right. Of course. You didn't do anything to piss Beaver off?"

"Dude, no. I got him a bottle of Blue after the last mission and he almost kissed me. He fucking loves me, man."

Jeff frowns at his paperwork, sliding a few pages in his desk drawer. "He did bring you on the ship because you almost drank him under the table. That wasn't your first clue?"

"First officer gig is a first officer gig, isn't it?"

"Guess so," Jeff says, twirling his cigar between his fingers. "Well. Fuck me if I know, then. Just go in and act all sheepish and pathetic like you always do."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, like that."

"You are completely useless."

:::

Jared puts on his best outfit, but leaves off the blazer - he doesn't want to try _too_ hard. And hey, he'd look like a fucking idiot dressing up just for a dressing down. (He's fucking hilarious. Too bad Captain Beaver wasn't around for that one.

Hell, depending on why he's being brought in, it might be a good thing Captain Beaver isn't here.)

Admiral Ferris is waiting for him; she's even more terrifying in person, with more presence than anyone else Jared has ever met. She meets him with a cool stare, giving nothing away, and the nausea increases. She holds out her hand and he shakes it, hoping to fuck his palms aren't ridiculously sweaty. He sits down at her gesture, crossing his legs, then uncrossing them. Clasps his fingers together on his lap, then grips his knees.

"From this moment forth, should you choose to accept it, the admiral council has decided to promote you to Captain."

Jared blinks at the abrupt tone, then blinks again. "Uh. Pardon?"

"You're to be assigned to the USS _Sydney_ ," Admiral Ferris continues without acknowledging Jared's stammer. "She's in dock for the next two weeks for repairs; I suggest you become familiar with her as soon as you can. Your ceremony will be Friday afternoon. Congratulations."

The _Sydney._ Steven's ship. "Wait. What?"

Ferris raises a carefully crafted eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what part of this is confusing to you? I can slow down if you like, although I'm not sure how to do so."

"No," Jared hurries. "It's not - it's just - it's all happening a little fast is all. It's just - what happened to Captain Williams?"

"Captain Williams suffered an injury in the line of duty," Ferris says. "He will no longer to be able to serve in such a capacity."

Jared feels sick, a swoop in his stomach. "What? Why? What happened?"

"A spinal injury on the latest mission. He's been promoted to Commodore and will be serving in a higher capacity from now on."

Jared blinks, trying to take it all in. Why has nobody told him?

"The incident was a few days ago, and it's been kept confidential."

Oh. Still. He's almost family. Or so he thought. His mother should have known at least, right?

_Incident, my ass._

"Wait. So Steven recommended me as his replacement?"

"Apparently," she says.

"Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ferris says slowly, as if she just now came to that realization. "He believes that you have the right leadership style for his crew. The council has decided to grant his request. Your test scores are fantastic, your simulation history exemplary, and you've received nothing but rave reviews from your instructors and your current - or rather, former - captain." She eyes him and Jared straightens, schooling his face into something professional looking. (He hopes.)

"That sounds - acceptable," Jared says lamely. "Okay. Yeah. Great."

She sighs, looking tired. "Excellent. Be prepared to receive more information within the next few days, and once again, your ceremony will be on Friday." She looks him over. "But please, cut your hair?"

:::

He pulls out the comm as soon as he thinks he's a safe distance enough away from Ferris. He still takes an extra second, expecting her to pop out around any corner.

Probably pointless, but he's so used to Steven answering his comm that the attempt to contact him is automatic. It makes the lack of answer that much more noticeable, though.

He stands there in the hallway alone, a little stupidly, wondering if he should call his mother or not.

He shoves it back in his pocket. She's never bothered; he sees no reason why he should.

:::

"I got promoted."

Jeff blinks. "Come again?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Promoted."

"Yep. Captain."

Jeff chews on his cigarette. "Huh. What ship?"

"The _Sydney_. How the hell did I not learn that Steven was seriously hurt, man? There was an attack on his ship. Did _you_ hear anything about that?"

"Steven Williams?"

Jared rolls his eyes. "No, the other Steven who used to captain the _Sydney_. _Yes_ , Steven Williams!"

The cigarette dangles out of Jeff's mouth. "No," he says. "I didn't hear anything about that. Why didn't I hear anything about that? I'm one of the best doctors they've got."

"Yes, because that's what's important here. Not that Steven suffered a permanently debilitating injury. No, it's that they didn't call you in for a consult." Jared's palms are becoming sweaty again; the first place he'd thought to come to was Jeff's office. He's pretty sure that there's a cot hidden somewhere and that Jeff spends more time here than at his own place.

Jeff considers. "Yeah, that didn't come out right. What happened?"

"I don't know," Jared says, gripping his knees. "I tried to hail him on our communicator but he didn't answer. I'm going to try to see him tonight. Apparently they're still running some tests on him, but I'm sure they'll let me see him."

"Probably," Jeff says. He pats Jared's shoulder a little awkwardly; he's never been one for physical affection. "I'm sorry, kid. I know you two are close."

Jared sighs and rubs his eyes. "He's always moving, I just - this fucking sucks. I don't know anything, not really, what if -"

Jeff holds up his hand. "No use in worrying yourself silly until you learn all of the details. You know he's alive, you know he's stable."

"Shit." Jared rubs his eyes. "I don't even know how it happened. _Shit._ "

"Wait until you hear the details," Jeff repeats. "You're going to have enough on your plate with figuring out the whole promotion thing.”

Oh. Right. "You know you're coming with me, right?"

Jeff raises an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Come on, I can't go without my Chief Medical Officer."

"I'm not a Chief Medical Officer."

"You will be, now."

"And how do you propose to inform the current CMO?"

Jared pulls out the manifest and looks at the highlighted names. He bites his lip. "There isn't one.""

Jeff sighs and puts out his cigarette; he pulls out a cigar, chewing on the end as he lights it. "Damn."

"You'll come, right?"

"Kid, I'm not made for space."

"You enlisted in the Navy. Which, you know, _operates_ in space."

Jeff holds out his hands. "Do I look like I'm in space now?"

"You're really going to leave me? After all we've been together?"

"To be fair, you're the one leaving me."

"Don't lie. You'd miss me too much."

Jeff sighs. "Only because you're an annoying thorn in my ass."

Jared grins. "Does that mean you're coming?"

"I didn't say I -"

"You're coming and you know it."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Jeff rolls his eyes. "Mm hmm. What do you have there?"

"Crew files," Jared says, throwing the display device on Jeff's desk. "Over four hundred of them."

"Ah," Jeff says, turning it on. "Who's your first officer?"

"Haven't looked at it yet," Jared says, sitting down and scooting the chair close. "Probably some old dude who's going to hate me."

Jeff squints. "Doesn't look like some old dude to me." He spins the device around.

Jeff's right; his SIC can't be much older than Jared himself. It's strangely comforting, and Jared grins in relief. 

"Not too bad looking, either," Jeff says, almost casually, but his smirk gives him away.

Jared takes a closer look. Jensen, huh. He is attractive, shit, and Jared forces himself to keep a straight face, squirming in his seat. "No last name," he says instead, proud of how steady his voice sounds.

"Must be Kiberian," Jeff says, the smirk still dancing on his lips. He waggles his eyebrows. 

"Real professional."

Jeff chuckles under his breath. "Right. Well, you shouldn't have an issue there, anyway; those guys are cold as ice."

"They are not," Jared protests. "They're just taught to control their emotions a hell of a lot better than we are."

"Too well," Jeff says with a shrug. "I mean, the Olympia procedure? Having to purge their emotions if they want to serve on their council? They're fucked up, man. It's a little weird. Have you ever met a Kiberian before?"

"Yeah, my first semester roommate. Best one I ever had."

"Probably because you two never spoke."

"Seriously, man, you really fucking suck at understanding other cultures."

Jeff looks a little chagrined. He clears his throat. "Seems like a decent guy, anyway. Scientist. Top of his class. You guys should get along."

Jared lets his eyes linger on Jensen's picture again. "Right, uh. Yeah." His mouth is strangely dry. "How about the rest of alpha crew?"

The smirk is back on Jeff's face, but Jared is careful not to look at him. 

:::

_Hey, assface._

_I got promoted today. I know you'd be fucking pissed about that, so good thing you're not getting this message, huh? Well, I'm doing it. I'm taking it. Maybe it's so what happened to you will never happen to someone else. I don't know._

_Hope you're doing okay, man._

:::

After Jared looks through the rest of alpha crew, he hops on his bike and heads to the off-base clinic, which is about twelve miles from Jeff's med bay. He focuses on the wind on his face, the blur of the buildings: it's easier, more comforting than allowing his brain to picture what happened to Steven.

The receptionist looks up when he enters, an indifferent expression on her face. "Can I help you?"

Jared gives her what he hopes is a stable smile. "Hi, I'd like to see Steven Williams, please?"

She frowns. "May I ask for a name?"

"Jared Padalecki. I promise, he'll want to see me."

"Okay," she says slowly, pushing away from her desk. Her look is doubtful at best. "Just a moment."

Jared nods and sits down on the edge of a chair, jostling his legs. He can do this. No problem. He doesn't care for hospitals, but who does? He's managed to avoid them since Sam was -

The receptionist comes back, looking a little surprised. "Follow me, please." She shows him to an elevator and punches in a code. "Fourth floor," she says. "Someone will meet you there and bring you to Mr. Williams' room."

Jared nods at her and steps inside, waiting for her to enter the code again. She almost smiles, but turns away as the door closes.

One of the nurses leads him to 408, opening the door and showing him inside. "Not too long," he says. "Half hour."

Jared is about to protest, but the sound of Steven saying his name is enough to shut him up.

Steven's sitting up on his bed, a tray across his lap that holds half-eaten spaghetti and an empty pudding cup. Jared manages a weak smile.

"This is how commodores live now, huh?"

Steven grins at him. "Only the best," he says. "Sit down, kid."

The chair next to Steven's bed is too small and uncomfortable for someone Jared's size, but he's used to it. "What the _hell_ happened?" spills out of his mouth before he can control himself. "You're - you -"

Steven holds up a hand. "I know." He actually shrugs, unfazed. "Trust me, I know."

Jared hesitates, the question that's been on his mind on the tip of his tongue. "Is this - is this permanent?"

Steven looks down at his legs. "Looks like."

"Jesus."

"It's all right," Steven says, and to Jared's surprise, he looks relatively at peace. "I would have done it all over again if I had to."

"What did happen? Nobody wants to tell me anything."

"I got cocky, I guess," Steven says, pushing away his tray. "Fucked up. Got caught on the wrong side of a fight and figured the other ship's captain could be reasoned with."

"You always did have a big mouth," Jared forces a smirk. 

Steven returns it. "I was asked to board their ship or else they'd, well, fire on _Sydney._ Wasn't too much of a choice. I guess - guess I figured things would have ended differently."

Jared shakes his head. "You mean with you dead."

"I was ready," Steven says. "My first officer, on the other hand, was not. Saved my fat ass." He frowns. "I ended up losing some of my people despite it all. Five. That, my boy, is the worst feeling I've ever experienced. Especially - especially when _you_ survived. You know how that makes me feel? I assure you that you'll do everything you can to never let that happen. "

Jared stares at Steven's toes. They will never move again. "I don't know what to say."

"There is nothing to say, really," Steven says. "Saying you're sorry is fucking ridiculous. It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault. Maybe I'm high on painkillers right now, but - I've accepted it. It's all right. It's part of the job. It _was_ my job. I'm one of the lucky ones. I should be - I should be dead."

"Don't -" Jared starts, because he would never wish that, he hates that he's actually grateful that others died instead of Steven, almost feels sick at that.

"Enough," Steven says. He sighs. "There's nothing more that can be done. I can't even attend their funerals."

Jared sits silently; his chest feels hot, compressed. Steven stares at the wall for a few moments before he shakes his head, coming back to himself. "How about Admiral Ferris, huh? How much did you shit yourself when she told you?"

Jared coughs out a laugh. "A little bit."

Steven's already nodding. "What do you think?"

"Me? I mean. _Me_?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Jared says. "Well, all right, that's not quite true, but why would you suggest me? I don't have any experience, I -"

"Everyone starts somewhere," Steven interrupts. "You're a first officer; the next logical promotion -" here, he snickers, to Jared's confusion - "is to captain. You're good at what you do. You're smart. You think on your feet. You're an incredible problem-solver. Best of all, you care. You have no problem putting other people above yourself, and that, my friend, is a captain's best skill."

"I'm too young," Jared protests. Steven gives him a wry grin.

"Now you sound like Admiral Ferris."

"You really think your crew would take me seriously?"

"Absolutely," Steven says. "You surprise people for the better. You sure as hell surprised me. I didn't think you'd ever want to join the Navy after what happened to your brother."

His brother, so skinny - so distrustful of everyone, so hateful. Jared does his best to shove that all away. "Are you positive this isn't the painkillers talking?"

"You'll do fine," Steven says. "You're ready. I assure you. As much fun as it may be to watch Captain Beaver swear and get drunk and do other ridiculous things, it's time for you to move on. You were made for this."

The nurse returns to shepherd him out; the despair still lingers around the edges, but Steven gives him a small, genuine smile as he leaves.

:::

The ceremony is nothing like how he imagined it would be. Granted, he didn't picture this day very often; he lived on a day-by-day basis under Captain Beaver. The ceremony is almost perfunctory, the clapping polite, and he tries to squint into the crowd but he can't pick out individual faces amongst all the red. He wonders if his mother knows yet, if she'd even show up if she did. He knows Jeff's there, at least, probably grumbling under his breath to everyone sitting around him, a small but sincere smile on his face.

He wonders if any of his future crew are in the audience. That thought sobers him up, and he accepts his bars with a simple nod and a bow.

Admiral Ferris gives him the first authentic smile he's ever seen from her, as tiny as it may be.

Then: "Don't screw up."

Jared blinks, then smirks. "Yes, ma'am."

She nods. "Good." She salutes and he reciprocates.

His heart beats so loudly that he can barely hear the applause, and he manages to make his way out to the hall without falling on his face.

"Nice going," Matt, his second year roommate, smiles. He's a good deal shorter than Jared but compact, muscular. Not that Jared's noticed or anything. "We gonna go get shitfaced now?"

"Not with you, punk," Jared hears, Jeff coming up behind him.

Matt shakes his head. "You're such a hardass, Jeff."

Jeff snorts. "I haven't even given you one of my physicals yet." He stops. "I don't think that came out right."

Matt waggles his eyebrows. "Sure, man. You can give me a physical whenever you like."

"I'm sure Mandy would love to hear that," Jared says dryly, and Matt shrugs.

"She'd probably want to watch."

"I'll log that one away," Jeff says. "Now, if you'll excuse us?"

Matt laughs as he turns away, the sound swallowed up by the crowd. Jeff mumbles something under his breath.

"Anyway. Whiskey, on me."

"Gonna get me drunk on my first night as Captain?"

Jeff smirks. "Call it a celebration. This is the last free night you'll ever have."

God, that's terrifying.

They go to a bar off the beaten path, one that hasn't already been contaminated by Captain Beaver. Jeff orders them doubles of the best whiskey, ignoring Jared's protests, and slides one glass down the bar. He holds up his own.

"To your promotion, you little shit."

Jared clinks his glass against Jeff's. "I couldn't have done it without your constant support and affirmation."

Jeff snorts and takes a drink.

"So. You ready?"

Jeff thinks, then throws down the rest of his drink without a grimace. "Not yet. Fuck. I have to go in space? I have to fly? I'm going to fly. I hate you, you little shit. You suck."

"I'll make sure the sickbay has no windows."

"Fuck you and your no windows. Give me windows. Give me all the windows."

"With glass floors."

"With glass - no. Hell no. A man has limits."

After four doubles of whiskey, Jared feels himself sag until he's nearly on the floor. "You - you think I'm gonna suck?"

Jeff squints at him, one eyebrow raised. "Eh?"

"Captaininging-ing."

"Wha?"

"What if I fuck up? What if I get people killed, man, what if I fuck - fuck it up?"

"You're not," Jeff says, going to pat his shoulder; he misses. "Imma be there. Impossible to fuck it up."

Jared lays his head on the table. "Ugh."

"Too late for cold - cold feet."

"My brother would kill me."

"Your brother seems like an asshole."

Jared rubs his face against the wood and vaguely hopes he doesn't get any splinters. "'S not. Wasn't his fault. Don't blame him."

Jeff hums under his breath. "He wouldn't be mad. He'd be proud. That's how big brothers roll."

"Ugh," Jared repeats, but this time it's because his stomach is rolling. "Order food. Fries. Fries are good. Fries are very good."

Jeff laughs and ruffles his hair. "You'll do just fine."

:::

At 0700 hours, Jared heads out to the repair dock, only a mild headache a sign of the night before. Jeff trudges beside him, grumbling under his breath. 

"Your fault," Jared mutters. "Fuckin' alcoholic."

Jeff flicks his sunglasses down, but Jared knows he's rolling his eyes behind the lens. 

"Who are we meeting again?"

"Not your secretary, dude," Jeff says. "But it's Aldis. Aldis - Hodge, I think. Sounded like an asshole."

Jared sighs. "You think everyone's an asshole."

Jeff considers. "True."

"You're the asshole," Jared hears, but the voice sounds unconcerned. Amused, even.

"Aldis?"

"Yup," Aldis says. He's wearing orange overalls with brown boots, boots that look like they're on their last legs. "Captain Padalecki?"

Hearing the 'Captain' still gives Jared a sense of discomfort, like he doesn't deserve the title just yet, but he nods. "That's me."

"Cool," Aldis grins. "I'll show you your ship. You better take good care of her or I'll kick your ass."

"Noted," Jared says.

The ship doesn't appear to be as damaged as others in the fleet. The hull is torn, two engines being repaired, but other than that she looks relatively unscathed.

"No, no, you idiots, what the fuck are you _doing_? Does that look like the right engine to you? Does it?"

Jeff grunts beside him as they watch a man yell at passing ensigns. He's dressed in overalls like Aldis, grease all over his biceps and goggles on top of his head.

"Wonderful, thank you. Let's not further fuck her up, shall we? She's been through enough already, haven't you, baby?"

"Please tell me that he's only on the repair team," Jeff says.

"Your Chief Engineer," Aldis says, almost apologetically, although his smirk gives him away. "Misha Collins. He's not like that all the time. Not too often. Sometimes. He has an unhealthy obsession with the ship, is all."

"Right," Jeff sighs. "Good start."

Jared shoulders past him, navigating his way through the group of ensigns. He reaches out to pat Misha on the shoulder, sees the grease, and changes his mind.

"Excuse me?"

Misha turns around; grease sits on the tip of his nose. His gaze is piercing and his eyes are a little wild. "And who might you be?"

"Jared Padalecki."

"Ah," Misha says. "The new captain!" He looks Jared up and down. "Little young, aren't you?"

"Just a little," Jared says. "Want to fill me in on the repairs?"

"Really?" Misha asks. "Okay, yeah. Follow me, my good sir."

Jared doesn't miss how the ensigns almost jump out of Misha's path, Misha blowing by them without a second glance. He blinks, logging that away.

"So, the crew."

"Are you asking me for gossip, lad?"

"Information from a personal perspective. And the Scottish accent is really not necessary."

"Right, information. Got it. I have to say, you have a damn fine crew." Misha stops, taps his jaw. "Granted, morale is a tad down due to recent events. Five fucking funerals in one week. Not to mention losing the captain? Hell of a blow. Williams was a good man, my friend. Damn good man."

"He's not dead," Jared says through gritted teeth. "He _is_ a good man."

Misha widens his eyes. "No disrespect, no disrespect. You're right. Didn't mean it like that, my good cap."

Jared nods, steering the conversation back to the topic at hand. "They're not going to resent me, are they? The crew."

"Naw, naw," Misha says, waving a hand. "Just going to take some getting used to is all. We've been with Williams for a little while, and there wasn't one person who didn't love him. Hell, none of us have even gotten to see him since the accident."

"I did," Jared tries to smile. "He's doing all right."

"Really?" Misha raises an eyebrow. "That's good to hear. Guess they would let his replacement in to see him."

The nepotism comments are bound to be inevitable, so Jared goes ahead and says it. "I knew him growing up."

"Yeah?"

"He served with my mother until he got promoted. He'd come down and see me whenever he got shore leave." He looks at Misha. "That going to be okay?"

"Aw, hell," Misha says. "Williams wouldn't recommend you because he knew you as a wee lad. That's not who he is. He'd recommend you because you deserve it, so you're not going to get any judgment from me. Not anyone else, either. Well, unless they're a turd. We may have a few turds."

"Uh, thanks," Jared says slowly.

Misha gives him a tour of the engines. "Damage isn't horrible, but I managed to convince them to get some state of the art shit. I mean, look. It'd take a nuclear powered laser of a batshit like nature to take this thing out. Hey!"

He yells abruptly, causing Jared to jump.

"Back away from the flash lamp. Yes, you. What did I just - _back away._ Set it down, there you go. You're doing it wrong." Misha sighs. "Sorry, Captain, but it looks like I'm gonna cut this visit a bit short. If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. What's the plan?"

Jared shakes his head, a little smile spreading his lips. "I'll let you know."

"Great," Misha says, and he takes off.

:::

Jared heads up to the bridge. He feels all of twelve years old again, wanting to sit in the captain's chair, surveying _his_ territory. Imagining himself giving orders to the crew, communicating with new civilizations. He has to force himself to walk at a reasonable speed.

He makes his way down the halls, giving small nods to those he passes. They nod back at him but eye him, obviously not recognizing him. He can't blame their hesitancy, and he resolves to set up a meeting with the crew once he's checked out the bridge.

The bridge is everything and nothing like he imagined. It's twice as big as his old ship; the equipment is updated, the communication screen wider, the chairs at each station neat and clean. Before he can take the chance to truly appreciate it, he realizes he's not alone.

A woman stands by the communication station, facing away from Jared. Her hair is in a huge ponytail, a waterfall of red flowing down her back. She touches each part of her station with care, fingers trailing lovingly along the dials. Somehow Jared doesn't think that Misha is the only one with an unhealthy love for the ship. He tries to remember her name from the manifest, but it's not coming to mind. He clears his throat.

He almost has to take a step back when she looks up, her gaze strong and discerning. "Yes?"

"Hi. Uh. I'm Jared. Jared Padalecki?"

"Hi, Jared Padalecki," she parrots, even including a slight questioning inflection at the end of her sentence. She salutes. "Or should I say, Captain Padalecki?"

"Jared will do," Jared grins, but she simply nods in response. "So - care to show me around the bridge, all the gadgets?"

Her lips turn crooked; no doubt she's interpreting his question at an attempt at flirting. "I believe you should wait for your first officer to do that. He'll be able to fill you in more appropriately than I can."

"And where is my first officer?"

She inclines her head slightly and raises her communicator, turning around and speaking so quietly that Jared can't hear her. When she finishes, she clips it to her side and turns back around. "He'll be here momentarily."

"Great," Jared says, racking his brain for her name. 

"It's Harris," she says, reading his face. "I'm your communications officer."

Jared remembers her now; well, everything except for one crucial detail. "Brilliant. No first name?"

"I'm going to head down to get some lunch," Harris says, bypassing the question. "You just wait here."

Jared receives another salute for his troubles, her hair whipping around, ponytail draped over one shoulder.

One alpha crew member down. He can do this. No problem.

"Sir?"

First things first: Jensen's picture does _not_ do him justice. The serious expression is similar but he somehow looks - lighter. Or something.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

"Sir?" Jensen repeats. He stands straight-backed, hands clasped behind his back in a bizarre parody of Admiral Ferris. His gaze is cool, indifferent. 

"Yes?" Jared says. "Yes. Hello."

Jensen nods slowly. "I'm your first officer," he says. "My name is Jensen."

"I know," Jared answers. "I read the manifest."

"That's...good," Jensen says. "Strongly encouraged."

Jared clears his throat. "Right. So I've got a first officer with no last name and a communications officer with no first name?"

Jensen frowns. "Danneel?"

"Oh, sweet, is that her name? Danneel Harris?"

Jensen gives him a strange look. "Yes, sir. Her name is on the manifest. If you recall?"

Jared glares at him. "You know how many names are in there?"

"I should hope so, as I've served with them for over a year."

Jared closes his eyes briefly. "I'm not making a good first impression, am I?"

Jensen lifts a shoulder. "I don't put much importance in first impressions."

Well, that's good. Jared doesn't realize he says that out loud until he sees Jensen's smirk. "So," he rushes, "do you want to update me on what's going on around the ship?"

"We're set to leave in three days."

"I knew that, you know."

Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Of course."

Jared raises an eyebrow right back. Jensen shifts his weight.

"I was referring more the history of the ship's missions."

"Ah," Jensen says. "Shall I update you properly, then?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"We've only known each other for moments; I hardly believe that -"

"Just do it," Jared sighs. Jensen nods and beckons Jared to follow him down the hall to _Conference Room Three_ , which is thankfully empty.

Jensen sits at the table, setting up his display device and pulling up their logs.

"I assume Captain Williams gave you his personal log?"

"Yes," Jared says, tugging it out. He spent that first day after the promotion listening to it. "I feel relatively up to date, but I'd still like to hear things from your perspective. As we're going to be working together in close capacity, I need to understand your point of view."

"All right," Jensen nods. "Primarily we're used for diplomacy, although we're often used for supply runs as well. The Navy wants us to bring new people into the Federation; Captain Williams was terrific at diplomacy."

"I know," Jared snorts. "Trust me, I know."

Jensen raises an eyebrow.

"I experienced his diplomacy first-hand growing up."

"I'm aware."

"What?"

Jensen smiles. "He talked about you all the time."

Jared eyes him. "What did he say?"

Jared swears Jensen's smile turns into a smirk. "Nothing too embarrassing."

Jared shrugs. "It's impossible to embarrass me."

"Oh?" There's that eyebrow again. "Interesting."

"Don't get any ideas."

"Of course not," Jensen turns back to the PADD. Back to business. "As I'm sure you noted from the logs, things have been run quite smoothly. No major incidents within the ship; some disciplinary action has been taken, but only for slight offenses."

"Slight?"

"Some interior ship damage. Misha Collins, mainly."

"Ah," Jared says. "Yes, I've met him already."

"Oh, good," Jensen says. He looks slightly relieved. "He can be a bit - overwhelming."

"He's nothing," Jared shrugs. "I've seen much stranger."

"It's only your first day on the ship," Jensen says, almost in warning.

"I think I can handle it. There's nobody else I need to keep an eye on?"

"No," Jensen says, but his tone changes briefly, a little higher, and mouth thins. "All right," he continues before Jared can ask, pulling up more files on the screen. "Quick review of our past missions. Thirteen during the last year. Seven diplomatic, four supply runs, and two miscellaneous."

Jared frowns. "Miscellaneous?"

"Family emergencies."

Jared nods. "Any issues with the diplomacy?"

"Nothing hostile," Jensen says. "Not everyone was up for listening, but the few that declined did so politely, and we left without casualty."

"I've received our first order from Ferris," Jared says, pulling it up. "Looks like a supply run to Ligos."

Jensen nods. "She wants to ease you in, sir."

"Figured," Jared smiles, patting Jensen's shoulder. Jensen twitches slightly.

"Oh. Sorry. I'm kind of - touchy. And please don't call me sir, man. It's weird."

"Okay," Jensen says. "My mistake, Captain."

Jared just manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. "How many officers are currently available for a meeting?"

"All of them, sir - Jared."

"Good. Get them together and meet them in the mess."

"The mess?" Jensen says, but he nods. "Give me thirty minutes."

Jared blows out a breath as Jensen leaves; he didn't realize how nervous he was. 

He pulls out his comm and hits in Jeff's code. "Hey, asshole. How are things in sickbay?"

"Pretty good," Jeff answers begrudgingly. "The supplies are satisfactory."

"Better than what you get planetside, I bet."

"Planetside I had my office," Jeff mutters. "And my cot."

"Dude, I saw the schematics of your new office. It's twice as big as your old one and I'm sure it doesn't smell like old cheese."

"Yeah, it's all shiny and new and smells nice," Jeff sighs. "It really sucks."

Jared snorts. "Sure. Hey, come down to the mess, will you? I'm holding a meeting for the officers."

"I hate meetings. Meetings are for people who want to meet to talk about meetings and holding more meetings."

"Say meetings again."

" _Meetings._ "

"Get your ass down here."

:::

The first thing Jared notices about his new crew is how young they are. Two women, both brunettes, walk in side-by-side, their hands brushing together briefly as they walk. One gestures to the more petite one, her free hand going wild and face expressive while the smaller one watches with an obliging, affectionate smile.

"Hey, Cap," the taller one grins, giving a mock salute. "Pleasure."

"Hello," the other one adds, her smile more contained but no less sincere.

"Cindy Sampson and Sandy McCoy," Jensen says. "Your pilots."

"Our pilots," Jared corrects. Jensen nods.

Harris trickles in behind them, a duffel over her shoulder.

"Danneel Harris, your - our - communications officer."

"We've met," Jared says, giving a cheeky grin. "Haven't we, _Danneel_?"

Danneel grimaces, but there's no malice. "Indeed."

Jeff saunters in a few minutes later, a tall blonde next to him. Jeff waggles his eyebrows at Jared but the blonde sees, smacking his shoulder.

"My SIC," Jeff says, rubbing his shoulder. "Samantha Smith."

"Nice to meet you," Samantha says, smiling sweetly. She takes a seat next to Jeff, smirking. They'll get along well, no problem there.

Once everyone's seated, Jared stands opposite them. They watch him with curious eyes and it should be intimidating, but it only makes Jared stand taller.

"I wanted to discuss our future plans."

Sandy sobers, sinking down in her seat. Cindy reaches under the table.

"I understand that I'm stepping into a situation where you all are familiar with one another and operated under a system that I'll end up changing," Jared continues. His throat starts to go dry. "But I want you to know that I'm available for any questions or suggestions you have; don't hesitate if you've got something to say, okay?"

"Anything?" Cindy asks. She jumps; Jared assumes that Sandy smacked her under the table.

Jared eyes her. "Within reason?"

"How about we keep discussion relating to the mission?"

Jared points at Jensen. "Agreed."

"Are we setting off after repairs?" Sandy says.

"Within three days," Jared answers. "We'll pick up where you left off in your five year mission."

"I understand that you served under Captain Beaver," Danneel says. Her lips curl slightly at the name.

"I did," Jared says. "I've got a pretty thick skin, so lay it on me."

"The atmosphere is much different here," Danneel continues. "How do you know you're ready to handle it?"

"Danneel," Sandy says.

"It's all right," Jared says, holding out a hand to cut her off. "It's a valid question." He looks at Danneel. "I believe I'm ready. I understand I have to prove myself and I'll do whatever it takes to do so. I know Captain Williams and will follow in his footsteps."

"That's the good captain-y answer," Danneel nods. "Now how about your real answer?"

Jensen sits, nonplussed, while Sandy stares at Danneel, jaw dropped. Jeff leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles, looking like he's about to tuck his hands behind his head.

"Because I don't put up with shit," Jared says bluntly, looking her in the eye. "I don't tolerate it and I won't settle for second best. Anybody wants to coast through needs to get the fuck off of my ship. That's not what I'm here for, that's not what you're here for. There are plenty of other qualified candidates that can take your place in an instant and I will make sure that happens if necessary. I've seen my fair share of things. I know what grief does to people. I know what trauma does to people. Most of all, I know what it takes to get the job done and I will stop at nothing to make sure it _gets_ done. Do you understand?"

A chorus of "understood"s hits him and he blinks. Cindy smirks, her arm around Sandy's shoulder. 

"Yes sir, Captain," Danneel says with an approving nod. "Yes, sir."

:::

By the time his first day is over, he just wants to crash. He can't even appreciate how much better his rooms are here than they were on his old ship; he simply faceplants on the bed and shoves his face in the pillow. He's settling in, closing his eyes and lets his body relax when there's a loud beep by his head.

"Fuck me," he mutters, hitting the hologram button. " _What_?"

His mother stares back at him and he sits up quickly; she still has that effect on him. "Interesting that I would have to contact you first after such a dramatic change in your life."

A dramatic change. Not a promotion, not an achievement, a _change_. "You haven't exactly been dependable in the past, mother. Didn't think this news would have been important to you."

"Don't be dramatic," his mother says, shaking her head. "Obtaining captaincy is only for a select few. Of course I would have been interested."

Jared rubs his eyes. "Why are you calling me?"

She looks down for a brief moment. "I haven't been an acceptable mother. I know that."

"Really."

She ignores him. "I put work first. I chose to spend the majority of my time serving in the Navy. I neglected you and Sam. I know."

Jared flinches at the mention of his brother. "And?"

She falters. "I just - wanted to tell you."

"What? Are you trying to say you're sorry? Is that it?"

"I just wanted to tell you," she repeats. There's a look in her eyes that Jared can't interpret before she ends the call.

Jared doesn't sleep much that night.

:::

_Heard from Mom. I bet she knows where you are, you fucker. I never asked, though. Don't want to know._

_Pretty sure she was trying to apologize, I don't know. Don't really care. Too little, too late and all that shit. Couldn't even come out and say 'I'm sorry'. Guess she's too good for that._

:::

Everyone reports to the _Sydney_ by 0900 three days later. Jared's a little overwhelmed; the overflowing halls and the constant chatter just put more of a burden on him. He's responsible for all of these people, all four hundred of them.

The ship rumbles to life, the floor singing under his feet. Everyone looks exhausted, even after the break, and there's a little drag to their steps.

_Five fucking funerals in one week._

He's making his way to the mess when he sees Jensen heading in the opposite direction. "Hey!"

Jensen turns, smiles slightly. "Captain."

"Where are you going?"

Jensen makes a vague movement down the hall. "To the botanical lab."

"Yeah? What's in there?"

"Botany," Jensen says slowly.

Jared narrows his eyes. "I know that, I just -" he stops at Jensen's smirk. "Ass."

"I received some new species before the accident," Jensen says. "I haven't been able to check them over due to recent events. Of course."

"Want to show me?"

"If you like," Jensen says. "I should warn you that most people don't find it very interesting, although Captain Williams was very apt at pretending."

Jared chuckles. "Yeah, he's good at that."

They set off down the hall. "So where did you guys meet?"

"At the academy in Florida. He was a guest lecturer for the physics department. I was interested in discussing things further with him after his speech; not many captains have such a keen eye for science. He ended up spending his shore leave at the academy and by the end of the week he offered me the position. He wanted the _Sydney_ to have a stronger science department."

"He loved science," Jared nods. "Tried to teach me a thing or two, but it didn't quite sink in. I was stronger in mathematics."

"Math is an important contributor to science," Jensen points out. "Perhaps he was unable to teach it in a proper learning style that would suit you."

"Perhaps you would be more adept in that regard?"

"If you like," Jensen says, opening the door to the lab. "I could give it a try."

Jared smirks and shoulders his way inside. "If you like," he repeats.

Watching Jensen work in the lab is more interesting than he thought it would be. Jared watches him prune the plants, and Jared remembers them from his bio class his second year at the academy. _Codariocalyx Motorius._ Dancing plants.

"Watch," Jensen says, as if he's reading Jared's mind. He starts to sing in Kiberian, a tune that sounds vaguely familiar, and the plants start to sway to the beat. Jensen's voice is soft, a little quiet, but soothing, talented, and Jared finds himself sitting on one of the chairs, much more relaxed.

"You've got a good voice," Jared says when Jensen finishes; Jared is a little embarrassed to admit that he spent more time watching Jensen than the dancing plants.

Jensen shrugs, but he looks slightly pleased. "I took lessons as a child."

Jared smiles as Jensen sits on his heels and prunes, still humming under his breath. The plants dodge his touch almost playfully. 

"So I was thinking I'd hold a meeting with the whole ship this time. Say my piece and all."

"That would be a good idea," Jensen says, nodding, and Jared lets himself sit a little while longer, watching, the sound of Jensen's voice comforting.

:::

Jared crams the crew into the auditorium like sardines; the temperature rises quickly with the combined body heat and Jared pulls at his collar as he sweats. The crew stare at him with wary eyes, but not hostile. Some mutter to themselves, but Jared ignores them, preparing himself for the speech he gave to his officers.

"As I'm sure you know by now, my name is Jared Padalecki, and I'll be taking over for Steven Williams. I'll be completely upfront and admit that yes, I'm young, and I understand any reservations you may have. However, I will do my best to show that I am suited for this job and will do everything in my power to protect the integrity of this ship, its crew, and the Navy."

He can almost hear Danneel rolling her eyes but he figures this speech would be a more appropriate choice than his other version.

"Within the next month, I'll be holding interviews with each one of you. I want to touch base, get to you, and let you get to know me. I'm all about the personal stuff."

He sees a lot of surprised faces in the audience, but all he offers them is a smile. Like Steven said, he's good at surprising people.

"We're proceeding where Captain Williams left off in your five year mission. I will alert you to any changes that may occur, but at present, things will continue as scheduled. We'll be setting out in three hours; please go prepare for our departure."

They're quick to follow orders, their shoulders looking a bit more relaxed. He watches them go, and for the first time he sees them as _his_ crew.

After he dismisses them, his officers remain behind. They've already got his back, and he's more at ease with the thought.

"Gonna have four hundred interviews in one month, huh?"

Jared tightens his grip on his PADD. "Thanks for sharing information I already possess, Lieutenant."

Danneel doesn't bristle, but rather, she smiles. "Good to know there's a backbone in there somewhere."

"Just for that, you'll be last."

Danneel laughs and gives a mock salute. "I look forward to it."


	3. Chapter 3

It takes six days to get to Ligos. Jensen sends him a report of the land, current weather, and past interactions with the residents; nothing is particularly striking, but Jared reads through the report once, twice, three times, until he has it memorized. He sends a message to Jeff detailing the list of medical supplies they're to deliver and has him gather and package them.

That all takes a grand total of ninety-one minutes, so Jared decides to use the rest of the time to get to know everyone on the ship. Jensen looks over his schedule of individual interviews with a raised eyebrow and dryly comments about how Jared might actually want to captain the ship at some time, _sir_ , but Jared rolls his eyes and shoves eggs in his mouth.

Jensen's right - holding thirteen individuals interviews a day, he learns, isn't very practical, not to mention taxing. Sleep quickly becomes lost to him; his days spent on alpha shift on the bridge and nearly every other moment smothered in paperwork and interviewing is exhausting. By the end of the third day, he gives in and starts holding group interviews. 

"Builds group morale," Jensen says casually, flipping through a file on his PADD. "Not to mention being a huge time-saver. You know. If you were interested."

Jared decides not to answer him.

Still, Jared learns a lot. He learns that Cindy was born on a ship and has been piloting since she was twelve. He learns that Sandy almost died from a simple surgery and wants to live with no regrets. He learns that Ensign Kelly is quiet, shy, and has a little crush on Cindy. His eyes grow comically wide after he says this.

"It'll stay between us," Jared reassures him, but he wonders if Kelly realizes that Cindy is very much spoken for.

He doesn't run into any problems until he meets the set with Lieutenant Weatherly. Weatherly sneers, his lip curled as he sits down. He's quiet throughout Jared's interviews with his three mates, but when Jared asks him where he's from, his sneer increases.

"What makes you think you're worth a damn?"

Ensign Chikezie sighs and rolls her eyes. "Can't you keep your trap shut for ten minutes?"

"What makes you think you're worth a damn?" Weatherly repeats, and Jared takes a deep breath.

"I realize you might be upset over losing your captain and me coming in -"

"You bet I'm upset," Weatherly spits. "Who the _fuck_ are you? You're what, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-six."

"Oh, twenty-six. My mistake. That definitely makes you the best man for the promotion."

"Shut _up_ , Weatherly," Chikezie says.

"It's okay," Jared says, holding up a hand, but she still doesn't look pleased. "Go ahead."

"You don't deserve respect," Weatherly says. "You were gifted this captaincy and you know it."

"Whatever helps you feel better," Chikezie mutters.

"I understand your feelings on the matter," Jared says. "I ask, however, that you give me a chance to gain your respect before you make judgment."

"I don't think I need to wait."

"Sorry, Captain," Chikezie says with a sigh. "He's kind of an ass."

"If you don't mind," Weatherly says, standing up. He noticeably avoids Chikezie's gaze. "I'm going to head back to work instead of wasting time with this. _If you don't mind_."

"I won't keep you where you don't want to be," Jared says, waving a hand, managing to hide his frown. Weatherly doesn't answer, but the loud screech of his chair scooting back says enough. The other two crewmembers (noticeably silent throughout Weatherly's rant) look at Jared with careful expressions, gathering up their bags. Jared sighs and nods, dismissing them. They leave with more grace than Weatherly, but that doesn't make Jared feel any better.

"All right," Jared says into the silence.

"Don't worry about it," Chikezie says. "He's always like that. I think he expected the promotion, although I have no idea why."

Jared hesitates before he asks his next question. "Is he going to be a problem?"

"I'd keep an eye out," Chikezie says, a little tentative. "I normally do. He's got a temper but he's a damn good scientist, and that's why Captain Williams kept him around."

Scientist. "He works with Jensen, then?"

"Yep," Chikezie says. "I don't know how Jensen puts up with him, because Weatherly's a complete asshole to him, too." She shrugs. "Jensen's always had a cap on his emotions, but I don't like the way Weatherly looks at him."

Jared twitches a little. "An asshole in what way?"

Chikezie worries at her lip; she gives him an apprehensive look.

"I won't say anything," Jared reassures her. "Everything stays between you and me."

"Personal taunts, really," Chikezie says. "Stuff about -" she hesitates. "His mother, and how he got the first officer position. Inappropriate remarks. Like, well -"

Jared frowns. "I understand," he nods, gritting his teeth. "Thank you; I'll keep an eye out."

And he does, to the point of being flat out uncomfortable. On the bridge, Danneel follows his eyes, and she grumbles under her breath when she sees his target. Jensen ignores them, but there's a slight frown that he can't quite hide; Jared doesn't miss how Jensen keeps his gaze away from Weatherly.

Luckily, Weatherly is the only person to display hostility toward him; the others are excited, indifferent, or a little shy, nervous, wanting to impress the new captain.

It's a little hilarious and a lot frightening, but true to his word, he keeps Danneel for last. 

She smiles at him, all teeth, and sits down, crossing her legs. The short dress accents her thighs quite well: smooth, flawless, toned. 

"I know I'm hot," she says offhandedly, "but I figured we were here to talk about things that you didn't know about me."

Jared stares at her for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs. "All right, then. Tell me about yourself."

"Sure," Danneel says. "I'm twenty-nine, from Raleigh, North Carolina, and I speak twenty-nine languages fluently, another thirty relatively well."

"I know all that," Jared says. "I've read your file."

Danneel shrugs. "Not much else to tell. I was raised by my cousin. Folks died when I was two."

"I'm sorry," Jared says. He pauses. "I get that. My dad died right after I was born."

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Sucks," Jared echoes, and Danneel gives him a little smile in return.

"It was a long time ago," she continues. "I don't even remember them. Not really. My cousin's pretty fucking awesome, too. Never had anything to complain about. Took me to Hoshi Sato when I was five."

"The linguist?"

"No, the trapeze artist," Danneel says. "Yes, the _linguist_. She was the first comm officer on the _Sydney_ , but when she retired, she lived two towns over from us. Over a hundred years old and still remembered what she ate for breakfast when she was twenty-five. She got me into linguistics. Figured out it was what I wanted to do from the start, and I decided to learn more languages than she knew."

"How are you doing so far?"

Danneel smiles. "Not too well, but I'm young yet."

Jared nods and makes a mental note to learn which languages she already knows. "That you are."

"So," Danneel says, leaning back in her chair. "What does Captain Padalecki like to do in his spare time?"

"I like chess," Jared shrugs after a moment. "Haven't played all that much lately, though." He grins cheekily at her. "Not enough worthy opponents."

Danneel nods, a knowing look in her eye. "Chess."

Jared figures he should probably be nervous when he sees that look.

:::

_So there's this guy. Real asshole. If you were around you'd probably corner him somewhere and kick his ass._

_I'm a little tempted to do it myself._

:::

Walking through the hallways of the _Sydney_ after he finishes the interviews is much easier; once he learns names, he knows them for life, and he takes good care to address everyone directly. They smile at him, some blush and look away, but the atmosphere becomes lighter. Friendly. 

Ligos isn't anything spectacular. It's something he's done under Captain Beaver a thousand times - dropping off medical supplies to a Federation planet. Nonetheless, he can't sleep. He hasn't actually had a mission that he's led; it doesn't matter what it is, he kind of wants to puke.

Around 2am he figures he's not going to get any sleep this way and rolls out of bed. He's used to working out until he's about to collapse, so he puts on his workout clothes and heads to the workout room.

Surprisingly, he's not alone; Danneel is there. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a few strands clinging to her temple with sweat. She lets her weights drop to the ground; the sound-proof room swallowing up the thunks.

"Captain," she says, with a tone that Jared can't place. Somewhere between jest and mock affection.

"Lieutenant," he answers, for lack of a better answer. She nods at him and takes a drink from her water bottle before turning and heading to the treadmill. She runs gracefully, without effort. He follows her lead and keeps things quiet, sticking to his weights and lifting until his arms shake. Sam used to impress him with how much he could lift before it happened; not so much after, when he was so skinny and threw up when he ate too much.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Danneel says, easily keeping pace while she talks. Jared's a little jealous; he's never been able to do that.

"Shouldn't you?" he counters, then rolls his eyes at himself. He can even hear Sam's sarcastic _oh, sick burn!_ in his head. 

"I'm not the captain," Danneel shrugs, increasing her speed. "Plus, insomniac here. You look a little nervous there, champ."

"I'm not nervous," Jared says, packing on more weight. "Need to work off some energy, that's all."

"Right," Danneel nods. "Energy." She increases her speed again on the machine, but doesn't close herself off to discussion.

"Teach me Ligosian?"

She hops off the treadmill. "What?"

"I'm not asking for a whole lot. Just enough that I can greet the leader. Mortalin."

"Huh," she says, taking a drink out of her water bottle. "Yeah, I can do that."

She sits cross-legged in front of him, motioning for him to do the same, and within the hour he manages to learn over two hundred words.

 _Geek_ , he hears Sam say, but this is one of the few times that hearing Sam's voice doesn't hurt.

:::

"Don't be nervous," Jensen says at breakfast. He's eating some sort of orange soup. "Things will be fine."

Jared grunts under his breath and takes a bite of sausage. "I know."

Danneel claps his shoulder. "Kid'll be all right. I've taken him under my wing."

"God help us," Jensen deadpans, easily avoiding her playful slap.

An hour later, Misha salutes him as he boards the transporter with Jensen, Danneel, and Jeff, supplies slung over their shoulders.

"Ring me when you're ready, my good sir," he says, and he energizes them, sending them to Ligos with one smooth motion.

Jensen and Danneel take off immediately, walking to meet a thin, older man who must be Mortalin. Jared stands stock still, taking in the planet, the _dying_ planet, because there is no other word for it.

He can smell the decay in the land, how hard the soil is under his feet. Trees wilt all around him, the leaves dry and breaking away. His eyes burn: he swipes at them but it doesn't help.

"Come on," Jeff says quietly, motioning toward Mortalin. "Time to go."

The Ligosian words stumble out of his mouth awkwardly at first, but he gains confidence after the initial greeting. Mortalin is just a little bit bigger than the other people Jared sees milling about, but he's still pale, sickly looking.

"Thank you," he says in Standard, voice frail, accent thick, fumbling through the words. His guards step forward and take the supplies from them, the food and meds, but it's not enough, it's not _nearly_ enough. Mortalin bows at him, so low that Jared can see the back of his neck. Jared responds in kind; he doesn't deserve this show of respect.

He hasn't done anything. Not really. He - what, put off the starvation of a few people?

"We can't leave," Jared says under his breath. "Look at them."

"It's not our duty," Jensen says gently. "We're only to drop off the supplies; we aren't able to help them any further. We don't have the resources."

Jared sees a mother give her child food, then pause and give the child her own as well.

"You've got a bleeding heart," Danneel tells him. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing, mind. But Captain - you can't save everyone. You have to understand that."

"I know," Jared spits. "I don't need you to tell me that."

Danneel doesn't recoil; she only pats his arm, gives him a side-hug, and shoulders past him. Jared stands there for a moment, stunned, before he heads back to be beamed up. He survived his first mission (all of five minutes of it, he thinks pathetically), but he's a little rattled, seeing that mother every time he blinks.

He almost calls Steven, but he puts the comm down, shaking his head. He can't go crying to Steven like this anymore. He's gotta stand up, be a leader, and handle his own business.

Someone knocks on his door as he's taking off his uniform shirt. Expecting it to be Jeff, he doesn't bother putting another shirt over his tank and opens the door.

It's definitely not Jeff.

"Hello," Jensen says, keeping his eyes on Jared's face, but his ears flush red. He's holding a box. "I heard you play chess?" 

Jared smiles inwardly; he thinks he's really going to like Danneel.

"It's been a while," Jared says. "Few years."

Jensen nods. "If you fear losing, we don't have to play."

Oh, you bastard. "Set up the board."

Jensen averts his eyes away from Jared's chest, setting up the board. He clears his throat and wipes his forehead. "Which color would you like?" he says, his voice sounding a little more unsteady than normal.

Jared chooses black, allowing Jensen to take the first move, and they play quietly for a while, the silence comforting in a sense that Jared can't place.

"Today upset you," Jensen finally says, eying Jared's bishop.

Jared shrugs. "Kind of hard not to be," he says. "You weren't?"

"I see it quite often," Jensen says, biting at his lip as he stares at the board. Jared's momentarily distracted by the brief appearance of Jensen's tongue.

"Seen it myself before," Jared says, forcing his gaze away. "Doesn't make it any easier."

"Yeah?" Jensen says. 

Jared toys with moving his rook, then decides to keep it where it is. "Knew some people who were on the planet Tarsus. After the draught. The famine."

He keeps his eyes on the board; he knows he doesn't have a poker face to save his life.

_You can tell me what happened. I won't tell anyone._

_Shut up, ass munch. You don't know what happened. You won't understand, you have no fucking idea._

"Ah," Jensen nods. "My father was part of the rescue crew. He brought home some of the children to stay with us until they found a permanent residence. Terribly thin and sickly. It took several weeks before they were able to take solid food."

"And you didn't feel anything?"

Jensen plays with his pawn. "I saw it quite often," he repeats, but he doesn't look at Jared.

Jared doesn't press it. "I hope I didn't come across as unprofessional."

"No," Jensen says. "Only someone who hasn't experienced such matters."

"Oh, awesome. That's much better."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Jensen says. "Perhaps it's a blessing that you aren't desensitized. Most captains are."

Jared lifts a shoulder. "I gotta ask," he says, moving a pawn. "Why didn't you take the captain position?"

"I'm not interested in leadership," Jensen answers, his eyes taking in Jared's move. "I prefer to focus on a specialized, intellectual post."

"So captains are stupid, eh?"

"Yes."

Jared's head jerks up. "What -"

Jensen's eyes are still on the board, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, you're an ass."

"Sometimes," Jensen says lightly, taking Jared's bishop. He's silent for a moment before continuing. "I was assigned Acting Captain when Captain Williams left the ship. I didn't like it much."

"Why not?"

"Too much responsibility. I didn't care for that."

"You rescued Steven, though," Jared says, moving his knight. "You did all right with the post."

"Reckless rescue attempts are one thing," Jensen says. "Bureaucracy and day-to-day matters are another."

"Point," Jared says, smiling. "So - I didn't have time to have my interview with you."

Jensen looks a little stunned. "I didn't realize you needed one."

"Well, yeah," Jared says. "I don't know much about you."

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with where you're from?" Jared already knows, but he's trying to pretend that he hasn't looked at Jensen's file several times already. He's supposed to be busy.

"Kiberia," Jensen says. "I lived there until I was nineteen."

Jared sits back in his chair. "Yeah? Why did you leave?"

Jensen looks a little confused. "I joined the Navy."

"Come on, everybody knows that you either join the Navy because you're an idealist or you're running from something," Jared says with a crooked grin. "Which one is it for you?"

"Neither," Jensen says. "It was the logical move. I wished to take the next step in my scientific career and I was offered the opportunity."

"Right," Jared says, taking his knight. "What about your folks?"

Jensen shrugs and makes another move. "What about them?"

"They were okay with you enlisting?"

"Didn't complain," Jensen says, which isn't an answer at all. Jared takes the hint and stays silent, and the rest of the game lapses back into that comfortable silence. Jared wasn't wrong when he told Danneel he hadn't played in a few years and it shows as Jensen finally beats him ninety minutes later.

"Nice one," Jared sighs. "Although I see what you did there, and you won't catch me on that next time."

Jensen pauses as he cleans up the board. "Next time," he says, allowing a small smile. "Good night, Jared."

:::

After that, things settle in. He doesn't second guess his every step down the corridor, and when he meets someone's gaze he smiles with confidence. They smile back.

They go on three more supply drops; thankfully these are much easier, but at the same time, he desires more. Something that makes him feel like he's making a difference. Steven made it sound much more exciting than this, the fucker. 

Some days, though? Some days just go to shit.

At 0500 one morning, he wakes up to Misha screaming on his communicator.

"Some dumb shit severed a pipe in the fifth engine room. They spend all of their money on the damn science department and I get stuck with the second year dropouts, it seems. I swear, if I don't -"

"Stop," Jared says, massaging his temples as he sits up. "First of all, I don't care about your feelings toward your staff, but don't insult them. Ever. Especially in front of me. Second of all - second of all. Well, I don't have a second of all. What do you need? Supplies, other personnel?"

"No," Misha says after some hesitation. "I can handle it."

"Okay, then."

"Okay."

Jared clicks off his communicator, rolls over, and tries to go back to sleep.

Then his eyes pop back open. Fuck, he's awake now.

He goes off to the gym and works out. He misses Danneel this morning, with her sarcastic remarks and snickers of derision when he tries to lift too much. He cuts the workout short and heads for breakfast, ready for pancakes and an omelet with bacon, avocado, and onions.

Except the replicator is broken; when he asks for an omelet, it spits out oatmeal. Lumpy, tasteless oatmeal with unidentified chunks. He makes a face and asks for fruit instead, but out comes uncooked spaghetti noodles.

"That doesn't look like fruit."

"Thanks, Jensen," Jared says. "Never would have figured that out for myself."

"Shall I call Misha?"

"No!" Jared says immediately. Jensen blinks. "Just. Let's leave him alone." He pulls out his comm and gets Genevieve on the line.

"I know," she says, sounding exhausted. "They've been down all over the ship; I've been up since 0430 this morning trying to get them figured out. Give me a minute; I'll be right up."

"Don't worry about that," Jared assures her. "It's not spitting out old socks, so we can survive for a few hours while you catch some sleep."

"Right," she says slowly. "Well, if old socks start to appear, let me know?"

"Absolutely."

"Great," she says. "Thank you, Captain."

Jared sits with Danneel and Cindy, their uneaten breakfasts sitting in front of them. Danneel's looks like rotten pizza, and Cindy's like an older burrito. To Cindy's credit, she at least attempted to eat hers (although that means Jared will be prepared to send her Jeff's way if she turns green.)

"Where's your food?" Jared asks Jensen as he forces a lump of oatmeal down his throat.

"I ate earlier," Jensen says. He stares at Jared's oatmeal. "I wouldn't eat that."

Jared grimaces. "I'm open to alternatives if there were any."

Jensen gets a thoughtful look on his face. He holds up a finger, leaves, and brings back a plate.

"What is this?"

"Frurian fish with a lemon glaze and asparagus."

"Wow," Danneel says with a smile. "Good breakfast meal." 

The tips of Jensen's ears turn red.

"Where the hell did you get this?" Jared asks, doing his best to avoid taking a bite.

"I made it," Jensen says. "My grandmother's recipe. It's comforting to make her food at times."

"I can't eat this," Jared says, shocked. Jensen frowns.

"Why not?"

"Because - you made it for yourself, I can't take that from you. This fish is only found on Kiberia."

"I know," Jensen says, looking at him like he's an idiot. "I lived there."

Jared sighs. "My point is, this isn't easily replaceable."

"I want you to have it."

"I can't take it!"

Danneel's looking back and forth between them with a raised eyebrow.

"It's yours," Jensen says in a tone that suggests the conversation is over. He sits back down and pulls up his PADD, his ears still red.

"Thanks," Jared says, touched, and he takes a bite. The fish melts on his tongue, the taste of butter noticeable but not overpowering. "Damn, this is really good."

Jensen smiles and shrugs.

"I've never gotten a meal from you," Danneel says, a little coy. "What's up with that?"

"You've never asked," Jensen says stiffly.

"Jared didn't ask, either."

"He's the captain, and therefore requires appropriate sustenance in order to fulfill the stressful duties of his job."

Danneel hums. "Sure, man. Gotcha."

Jensen hunches his shoulders. "I could make you something if you like," he says to his PADD.

"That's okay!" Danneel chirps, getting to her feet with her tray. "You need to save it for someone important. Like Jared."

Jared swallows his bite of asparagus and watches as Jensen chews on his lip. Cindy nudges him under the table when he stares a little too long. 

The rest of the day goes by relatively smoothly after that, but after dinner (with a fixed replicator; Jared's strangely disappointed), the pipes burst.

"I'm not taking a cold shower, man," Chad tells him. He tugs his red shirt away from his collar. "I don't care how nasty I get."

Jared rubs his face. "Well, I care. You can live with one cold shower."

Chad mutters something under his breath and turns away.

"We're playing poker in rec room three, Cap," Cindy says, waving a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

Jared hesitates. "I don't know if that's a good idea -"

"Don't worry about it," Cindy says with a wink. "We'll still respect you in the morning."

Jeff used to hate playing poker with him; he'd clean Jeff out every time and Jeff would only end up dead drunk. (Okay, the latter is close to happening every night.) He can hear Jeff's loud voice down the hall and he grins to himself.

Jeff and Jensen are next to each other, Jeff poking Jensen in the shoulder. "Not fair," Jeff mutters, his voice a little slurred. "Your poker face is epic."

"And yours is too expressive," Jensen returns mildly. "Look, this is how you increase your odds at successfully winning a hand." He stares at Jeff, his face unchanging. 

"Fucker," Jeff mumbles as he turns away; Jared still sees him trying to school his face into a blank expression. "Hey, don't look at my cards, asshole."

"I'm not," Jensen says easily, his eyes on his own hand. "I don't need to. You're holding a low pair at best."

Jeff sputters, the cigar nearly slipping out of my mouth. "What?"

"Your right index finger twitches when you have a poor hand," Jensen says, shifting his cards around. "Your back straightens when you have an excellent hand. Your tells are embarrassingly obvious. And you, as a doctor, should know that smoking is unhealthy."

Jeff mutters under his breath but he throws in his hand. 

"Here," Jensen says, scooting over until he's next to Jeff, nearly touching. "Let me show you."

"I want in," Jared says, sliding in between them. Jeff starts to laugh so hard he nearly chokes on his cigar, and Jared slugs him in the thigh. Jensen watches them, bemused, before he shrugs and turns back to his cards. He doesn't scoot away from Jared, though, and his body heat is almost intoxicating (three degrees higher than humans, Jared remembers, but it feels much higher than that.)

"What the _fuck_ ," Sandy says when Jared gets her all-in and takes her out with three of a kind. "No. I'm calling shenanigans, there's - there's no way."

"You went all-in with a pair of aces," Cindy squints. "I taught you better than that."

Sandy turns to her with a leer. "I remember you teaching me something more that night, like how you use your tongue to -"

"Okay," Jared interjects. "That might be it for me for the night."

"Agreed," Jensen says. He pushes his chips over to Danneel's pile. She gives him a grin and a cackle, restacking them.

"Come on," Mike sighs. "Game's pretty much over, now."

Jensen looks over at Cindy and Sandy, then back at Mike. "I won’t disagree," he shrugs and stands up, pulling on his shirt sleeves. 

"Off to the workout room?" Danneel says with a coy smile.

Jensen nods, tilting his head at her.

"Jared likes to work off excess energy, too," she says, picking up the cards that Mike's dealt her. "Maybe you guys can go together."

"Would you like to come?" Jensen asks, already walking out.

"Sure," Jared says, jogging to catch up, hoping he doesn't seem too eager. By Jeff's and Danneel's matching snorts, he's guessing he doesn't succeed.

"So what other recipes do you have from your grandmother?" Jared says as he pulls on his gloves. He could smack himself: seriously, that's what he says?

Jensen obviously feels similarly. "What?" 

"Like the fish."

"Oh," Jensen stands up and straightens out his shirt. It pulls down to expose his sweaty collarbone. Jared kind of wants to nibble on it. "She was fond of soups. Stews and bisques, as well - my favorite was her seafood bisque. I can't quite grasp the base, however; it always comes out too spicy or too bland." He hesitates. "Do you like seafood beyond fish?"

"Love it. I like spicy food, too, so I'd be a good judge?"

"I'll make you some, then," Jensen nods. "I need to pick up some ingredients next time we land, though."

Jared knows to tread lightly regarding Jensen's family, but here's the opening he's been looking for. "You spent a lot of time with your grandmother, then?"

"Yes."

Jared hesitates. "Your parents?"

"They weren't around for the most part," Jensen says. He shrugs. "It didn't affect my upbringing in a particularly negative way."

Right, Jared wants to say, but he doesn't say anything. Jensen bends his knees, steeling himself; Jared's a little distracted by Jensen's toned legs, the muscled biceps, the slim waist.

"Scared?" Jensen says, the playful tone to his voice throwing Jared off; Jared launches himself forward, wrapping his arms around Jensen's waist and pinning him to the mat.

"Nope," Jared grins at him, sitting on Jensen's thighs. Jensen's firm thighs.

Suddenly he's on his back, Jensen holding Jared's wrists above his head. 

"You count your victories much too early," Jensen breathes, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Foolish."

Jared's momentarily distracted by that mouth, by Jensen's weight on his lap. He squirms, lifting his legs, taking Jensen with them. Jensen _laughs_ and rolls off, but the last thing Jared wants to do is laugh.

"You might need more practice," Jensen smiles.

It happens before Jared can think about it: "Want to teach me?"

Jensen's smile falters for a bit before it returns even brighter than before. "Maybe," he says, heading to the weight set. Jared lets his head thunk against the mat, closing his eyes. 

:::

The next time they dock, Jensen disappears and comes back with his arms laden with food. Danneel peers over his shoulder as he writes out recipes on a piece of paper. She giggles and kisses his temple, ignoring Jensen as he glares at her.

Sometimes Jensen brings food to their chess meetings: perfectly cooked meat, light, flaky seafood, grilled vegetables that make Jared moan inappropriately in his seat. 

"Huh," Weatherly says one morning in the mess hall. "Sheesh, Jensen. Looks like you'd do anything to get it, wouldn't you?"

Danneel makes a move to stand up, but Jensen grabs her wrist, keeping her still. 

"You'll never get any," Jensen says coolly, the double entendre obvious, but he doesn't look up as he says it.

"Sure," Weatherly says, raising a hand; at that, Danneel does manage to stand, gritting her teeth.

"Fuck off," she says. "Piece of shit who needs to force -"

"Danneel," Jensen says, and she automatically sinks back into her chair. Weatherly sneers and walks past them.

"Stop defending him, Jensen," she mutters. Jensen shrugs. 

"I'm on beta shift," he says, dumping off his tray. He gives Danneel a significant look. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Danneel sighs. She looks like she wants to say something further but she takes a sip of orange juice instead.

"What's going on?" Jared says, narrowing his eyes.

"Get rid of his ass," Danneel says through gritted teeth. "I don't care how smart he is; he needs to _go._ "

"I can't do anything unless I know what's happening," Jared says, frowning.

Danneel throws her napkin on her tray. "Talk to Jensen, please? If I have to see that smug fucker again, I'm going to throw him down the garbage dispenser." 

Jared watches her leave, biting the inside of his cheek.

:::

_I think I dig my first officer. Is that a bad idea? Probably a bad idea._

_Oh, hell, what the fuck would you know?_

_I really wish you were here right now. I don't know what to do._

:::

Danneel hails him at 0730 on his day off; he grumbles and doesn’t open his eyes as he answers her. “What?” 

“You might want to get down here,” she says, and there's a hint of excitement in her voice that Jared's never heard before. 

"What's going on?"

"Just get down here," she repeats, ending the connection, and Jared nearly falls over in his haste to get dressed.

When he stumbles on the bridge (Jensen reaching out to steady him, what a good first mate) and into his seat, he looks up on the screen to see the admiral committee watching him with matching serious expressions, Admiral Heyerdahl at the forefront.

"We've received word that Groyan III requires our assistance," Admiral Heyerdahl says, his hands folded in front of him.

"What kind of assistance?"

"Diplomatic kidnapping, by the sounds of it," Heyerdahl says. "Grade three."

Jared sits up straight in his seat, his blood pumping. This could be it - this could be his test. Every great captain has one, and he needs to see how he would respond.

"Location?"

"48.3 North; 53.2, West," Heyerdahl says, and Jensen scribbles down the coordinates. "Diplomat's name is Keyma Shuit."

"Sandy."

"Course plotted," she says immediately. "It'll take us one point three hours to arrive."

Jared fidgets in his chair. He never was good at waiting. "Security levels?"

"Medium," Admiral Ferris says. "Remember to apply methods of persuasion before resulting to violent measures."

I _know_ , Jared wants to say, but he bites his tongue. "Admiral," he says instead, nodding. 

While Jared gathers more information, Jensen pats his shoulder and gestures to the back. Jared inclines his head, and Jensen takes off to gather supplies, pulling out his comm while he does so. 

"Misha," Jared calls as soon as he finishes with the admirals, "You by the transporter?"

"What? No. Why, what's going on?"

"Get there. Bring Osric with you."

"Osric? Shit, what's going on?"

"Grade three situation," Jared says, taking his bag out of Jensen's hands and looking through it quickly. "Get ready to beam four of us down in half an hour."

"Yes, Cap," Misha says; Jared hears him panting over the comm as he runs. "Osric! Osric, get your skinny ass down to level four! Brian, where is that brat?"

Jared cuts the connection. "Danneel, get Megalyn Echikunwoke on the comm, will you? She has a cousin on Groyan III; I want her with us."

Danneel nods and turns back to her station, and Jared takes a deep breath.

Shit.

:::

Despite not having visited for the past five years, Megalyn knows her way around the area, nodding at the coordinates and leading the way.

"I don't understand why they would do this," she insists, eying Danneel's phaser. "I swear, they aren't violent."

"Doesn't take much," Jared answers simply, but she clearly doesn't appreciate that response, frowning as she turns away.

He hates breaking that disillusion but he doesn't offer any attempts at comfort, choosing to follow her silently as she ducks through the woods.

"Hold on," she says finally, raising a hand. "Northwest. See?"

Jensen places a hand on Jared's shoulder, pushing him down slightly. "You're too damn tall," he says. 

Megalyn glares at him, then turns back around. "Not too bad," she says. "Looks like - eight of them? Huh."

"Huh?"

"Thought there would be more," she murmurs. "See, in the red? That's Keyma."

Two men hold Keyma by the elbows, although their grip is loose at best. He doesn't look particularly distressed: more annoyed, judging by the sneer on his lips as the men surrounding him gesture angrily.

"Jared?" Jensen asks quietly.

"Take the southwest," Jared says, gesturing with his head. He nods and sprints before Jared manages to finish the sentence. "Megalyn, go east - Danneel, with me."

Danneel grips her phaser tightly, sticking close behind him. "We just gonna roll in?"

"Any other suggestions?"

"Nope," she says. She flips her hair. "I'm confident we can negotiate this into a more satisfactory outcome."

"Right," Jared says, appreciating her casual optimism. "You're fluent in -"

"Grusian," she says. "And yes, of course. Prone to the subjective. I _hate_ the subjective."

"Perhaps you could put that aside for now?"

"Tell Dr. Kripke that," she mutters, but she shrugs against his shoulder in acquiescence.

"Keep your phaser down. I doubt things will go over too well if they see you barging in with a weapon pointing at them."

"I'm not stupid," she grumbles, but she lowers her phaser. "So are we just - going in?"

Jared gestures at her, stepping out of the woods; Megalyn's right, there are only eight of them. Jared's skin crawls, this doesn't feel right -

Keyma shouts at them in Grusian, which Danneel immediately translates under her breath, _help, help me, kill them - oh, can I fucking pull out my phaser now, Cap? Grade six, grade fucking six -_

"No," Jared hisses, aware of his phaser sitting heavily on his hip. "Tell them we're not here to hurt them; we only want to negotiate."

Danneel pauses for a brief moment before she obeys, gesturing at Jared and herself. Keyma stares back at them with an almost betrayed expression.

"Yeah, they're not listening too well," Danneel mutters. "Guy in the green's got a weapon behind Keyma; can you see what kind?"

"No," Jared blows out a breath. "Tell them that we want to discuss their intentions and see if we can come to a reasonable conclusion."

Danneel shrugs but does so: the men surrounding Keyma don't budge an inch. 

"I'm telling you," Danneel breathes. "Grade _six._ We need to act now or we're going to lose him."

Jared looks them over again, taking in the determined stance of the guards, Keyma's bowed head. He pulls his phaser out of its holster and whispers a command to hail Jensen and Megalyn to move in, but the phaser in Jared's hand grows hot, and he hisses, trying his best to not drop it.

Danneel curses under her breath and starts running; Jared almost loses track of her when the guards release Keyma and surround her. Keyma simply stands, unharmed and unconcerned, and Jared changes his trajectory, tugging his sleeve down to pick up his burning hot phaser.

Keyma turns slowly toward him and smiles; the phaser's heat increases until it burns a hole through the fabric and he's forced to drop it again, his hand spitting out smoke from the burn. Keyma's eyes glow yellow for a brief moment and Jared grits his teeth.

Psychics - fucking _psychics._

"Jensen!" Jared shouts into his comm. 

"I know!" Jensen yells back, and Jared starts; it's not through the comm. Jensen looks weaponless as well, but that doesn't stop him - he dives, taking one of the guards out at the knees, and a hysterical laugh almost bubbles out of Jared's chest. He hears Danneel's voice first, and he spins around, searching for her.

She has her arm wrapped around one of the guard's necks, and she presses her phaser to his temple. "Quit it, or you die," she says simply, her voice steady.

Things kind of go to shit after that.

Danneel suddenly goes down, someone taking her out at the legs. A guard levels his phaser at her, but she rolls out of the way just in time, a scorch mark left in the ground.

"Fuck!" she yells, springing to her feet, her hands automatically going to the holster around her hip; Keyma clenches his fist and Danneel's phaser slips out of her hands and slides under a bush.

By now, Jensen's already dropped three guys and is on his fourth, slamming him on the ground and pressing his fingers to the guy's temple. The guy shudders then goes limp.

"Four to energize!" Jared shouts in his comm. God, he hopes there's four - "Megalyn!"

"Here!" She calls back. She's a good thirty feet from him, her hair in disarray. "Can we go? We can go, right? I'm not - I'm not feeling this."

"Can't bring you up!" Misha says. "There's too much interference, man. You gotta stay still!"

"Right!" Jared spits back, dodging as a tree blasts behind him. "Stay still, good plan. We stay still and you're bringing up sizzling corpses!"

"Well, I'd like to avoid that."

"Then figure it out!" Jared shoves the comm back in his pocket.

Floods of people come out of the forest and Jared holds up his hands, recognizing the inevitability of continuing the fight. (He prays that Jensen and Danneel are doing the same. God, he prays.)

"Just give us the medicine," Keyma says. His hand is shaking as he holds his weapon. "Nobody has to die."

"Medicine?" Jared says, keeping himself still. "I don't know what -"

"Shut up!" Keyma shouts, the shaking spreading throughout his body. "We need the medicine, my son is dying, we -

"I don't _have_ any," Jared insists. "If you had just asked -"

"We did ask," Keyma says. "You said that you couldn't provide the supplies, that we had already gotten enough."

"Okay, _I_ didn't say anything," Jared says, keeping still. "You realize that we have no call in this, right? I don't make these decisions; we have no knowledge of your situation."

"Hail your people," Keyma says. He looks over at Danneel, whose wrists are pinned behind her. She's struggling and cursing, a line of red running down her temple. Then he looks at Jensen, who's on his knees, a weapon resting on the nape of his neck. "Or I kill yours."

"I can't," Jared repeats. _We don't negotiate with individuals in these circumstances. Lesson one of captaincy._ He looks at Jensen and Danneel, pleading. _I'm sorry._

Danneel shrugs, seemingly unfazed. Jensen would look bored to anyone else if his gaze didn't alternate between Danneel and the guy behind her.

Okay, come on, Jared thinks. We're still, Misha, Osric. Hello? _Still._

"Are you sure?" Keyma says, then Jensen grunts, his shoulder out of his socket. Jared sees red, but he does his best to remain calm.

"You're not doing yourself any favors," he says through gritted teeth. "You kill us and the Navy will never give you a damn thing ever again."

Keyma falters, but keeps his weapon up.

Jared's negotiation isn't working, and he can tell - Keyma reaches up to pull the trigger, his eyes a little wild, and several things happen all at once. Danneel drives her elbow into the thigh of the guy behind her, and he lets out and oomph before Danneel adds another elbow to his crotch. 

Keyma's first blast misses Jensen but his second hits the unintended target hard; Jared's chest explodes in pain and he swallows back a yell. Hands grab him and pull him close; the body heat tells him it's Jensen, Jensen's fingers pressing along his side, Jensen's angry voice in his ears.

The stabbing pain spreads to his side but at the same time there's an energizing around him. He manages to open his eyes to Jensen's face, which is totally worth the near excruciating pain that's grinding his teeth down to nothing. There's a scratch on Jensen's face and his shoulder is dislocated; Jared watches the blood trail down his cheek. They're on the landing pad, thank fuck, and he tries to roll on his front but Jensen holds him still.

"That was foolish," Jensen says, mouth tight. "You shouldn't have interfered."

"It's my job," Jared grins, then winces.

"As you are the highest ranking officer on our ship, I firmly disagree with your choice to risk your safety."

Jared shrugs, groaning under his breath. "It's my job," he repeats.

Jensen stays quiet a moment. "I can take care of myself, Jared."

The use of his first name is almost jarring. "Yeah? How come pieces of your brain would have been all over the ground, then?"

Jensen stiffens. "I can take care of myself," he says again.

Jared grins cheekily. "I kind of like taking care of you, though," he says, wondering if the pain is making him a little drunk.

Jensen gives him a strange look, but he's nudged out of the way as Jeff kneels by Jared's side.

"What happened?" he asks Jensen. Jensen doesn't answer, and Jeff grabs him by the wrist. "Hello? I'm a doctor, not a psychic!"

Jensen's face is carefully blank; he stares down at Jeff's hand. "Good thing your job is CMO, which is exactly what is required in this situation."

"Great," Jeff mutters, letting Jensen go.

"It was my fault," Jared says, defensive. "I should have seen it coming."

"Blaming yourself for something like this? Yeah, this is my surprised face," Jeff sighs, pulling away the towel to examine Jared's side.

"I could write you up for - _fuck!_ \- insubordination, you know."

"You go right ahead and do that. In the meantime, you're mine for the next few hours."

Jared waggles his eyebrows.

:::

Sickbay is a lot more shitty when you're on the bed. Jeff points at him and tells him to lay the fuck down, you get up and I'll rip you a new asshole, you might be captain but here I'm the motherfucking king, baby.

So he rests on his back, smells the antiseptic. He's gotten enough of that smell in his lifetime, with the weeks he spent in Sam's hospital room; it turns his stomach until he breathes through it.

"He's not fooling anyone, you know."

Jared doesn't jump; experience has burned that right out of him. Samantha smiles at him. She sets a tricorder down on the table and gestures at his sheets.

"Pull 'em down, Capitan."

Jared obeys. "Hi, hello. Who's not fooling who?"

"Jeff," Samantha says, finally stepping back. "He acts all rough and tough but he's a baby bear underneath."

There's a grumble from Jeff's office, but Samantha ignores it.

"Is everyone else okay?" Jared asks. "Danneel? Megalyn? Jensen?"

"All are fine," Samantha says. "Danneel and Megalyn only had scratches. Jensen suffered a pretty bad burn and dislocated shoulder, but it's getting better. I've restricted him from use that would prolong the healing. I discharged him earlier this morning."

"It'll heal properly?"

"Sure will," Samantha answers. "Might leave a nice little scar, though."

Jared yawns. "Will probably be a sexy scar, too. I want to lick it."

Samantha doesn't say anything for a moment: then she laughs loudly. "Oh, Captain. You've got it _bad._ "

Jared doesn't know what that means; it's easier to sleep, so he does. 

:::

"Nurse Smith says you should be okay."

Jared blinks himself awake, then relaxes. He rolls his head on the pillow to look at Jensen. "You still mad at me?"

Jensen's blank face says enough.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I don't know how I'm looking at you."

"Like this," Jared says, furrowing his eyebrows and pursing his lips. He blames the drugs when he bursts into laughter.

Jensen doesn't seem so amused. "I don't need you to protect me."

"Jensen," Jared sighs. "It's my job."

"It's not your job!" Jensen raises his voice, shocking Jared. "You're far more important than I am and as Captain, you are not to sacrifice yourself in such a reckless manner!"

"My _job_ is to protect my crew and that's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to stop doing that simply because you tell me to." Jared shakes his head. "You might not agree with it, but you will respect it. Understand?"

Jensen breathes out through his nose. "Understood."

"Good. Now get me a PADD, fool. I've been bored to death."

Jensen starts a little at the abrupt change in conversation. "You've been sleeping, mostly."

"I know, which is boring. PADD? I need to make a call."

"Fine," Jensen says, a little too tightly for Jared's liking.

Jensen leaves after he drops off the device, and Jared flops on his back. He hates to be that guy, and he hates that Jensen's upset with him, but above all else he's the captain and what he says goes.

_You're sounding like an asshole already, aren't you?_

Jared ignores Sam's voice; he waits until sickbay goes dark before he pulls out the device and sets up the screen, dialing the admiral committee.

"I suggest that we terminate relations with this planet," Jared says, trying to keep the sarcasm down to a minimum. "Someone else will need to do a final sweep-through."

"Damn," Admiral Fuller says. "Agreed, Captain. You have no further obligations; we'll remedy the situation from here."

"You sent us into a hot zone," Jared says through gritted teeth. "Poor research almost got my crew killed."

Admiral Fuller's face is blank. "It's not your job to criticize your orders, Captain. An unfortunate situation, but not foreseeable."

Jared bites his tongue. "Yes, sir."

The hologram flickers out.

:::

_You know, I really wanted to show you that the Navy is all right. That they really don't throw their own people under the bus._

_I hate when you're proven right._

:::

It doesn't take too long for Jared to recover, but he's always been a quick healer. His mother seemed to be really grateful that she didn't have to take care of him for very long, but then again, her methods of healing consisted of putting him to bed, handing him a towel, and saying _press down on it_.

Naturally, he prefers Nurse Smith's methods much more. Plus, waking up one morning to see Jeff and Jensen playing checkers is totally worth it.

"King me."

Jeff curls his lip. "No."

"You can't refuse to king me. It's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules."

"I don't think that's an option."

"It is when I say so."

"That...doesn't make any sense."

"I'm sorry, who's the CMO? Is it you? No, it's _me._ I rule the sickbay. My sickbay, my rules. Deal with it."

"If that's what you need to do in order to assure your victory, that's fine."

Jared suppresses a laugh.

"Boy, I could take you anytime, anywhere."

Jared can almost hear Jensen's eyebrow rise. "Take me, eh?"

Jeff's tightly clenched jaw must be aching. "...yes."

"All right, then. Just making sure. Perhaps we can rematch later in my quarters?"

"Rematch," Jeff mutters. " _This_ game isn't over yet."

"It will be in about five moves."

"Five mo - well, fuck me."

"I told you."

Jeff sighs. "Punk."

"Perhaps Jared would like to give you some tutoring lessons. What do you think, Jared?"

Busted. Jared opens his eyes fully and finally allows the laugh to spill out of his mouth. "It would be my honor to tutor you, my friend."

"Fuck you," Jeff says, holding up a finger in Jared's face. "And fuck you too," he adds, spinning around to face Jensen. "Tutoring. I don't need _tutoring_. Lucky game is all. I'll smoke you in the rematch. I would fuck you into the _ground._ "

Jared turns to look at Jeff, pursing his lips. Jeff flushes red.

"Uh huh," Jensen says, getting to his feet. "How are you feeling, Jared?"

"Fine," Jared says, patting his side. "No pain at all, so time for me to go."

"Wait," Jeff says, pushing Jared back down. "One more look-over and then you can go."

Jared sits obligingly while Jeff checks him over with the tricorder, fist-pumping when Jeff grunts that things look okay. Jensen shakes his head at them both but there's no lingering resentment over his last conversation with Jared. He even sits on the bed next to Jared while Jared tugs on his boots.

It's... _nice._

:::

In two weeks, Jensen beats Jeff in seven checkers matches in a row. Jared feels like he barely sees either one of them outside of work anymore, with both of them so focused on their rivalry (as Jeff calls it) or Jeff's embarrassment to board game draughts (as Jensen calls it). 

He's on his way to the bridge, listening to Jeff rant about their latest game in his ear when he notices everyone's eyes are on Danneel at her comm station.

"Captain, I'm -" Danneel waves a hand, then presses her headset closer to her ear. "Repeat transmission?" She listens, then gestures Jared over, putting the transmission on speaker.

It's garbled, cutting in and out. "we crashed...enemy...hostage situation...require assistance...Orion IV...Kane, serial number YC...343."

Jensen quickly stands up from his station and leans in over her shoulder, his eyes taking in the information on the screen. 

"Hello?" Danneel asks. She looks over at Jared.

"Who...this?"

"Padalecki with the _Sydney_ ," Jared hurries. "Kane, you said?"

"Yes, I'm...ful...about to go out, I -"

"Hello? Kane?"

Nothing.

"Get me the admiral committee," Jared throws over his shoulder at Danneel. "And keep trying a reconnection. Cindy, send a message to delta squad and get them to the bridge immediately. Sandy, get prepared to plot the course."

Jensen follows him to his captain's chair, standing stiffly by his side. Jared doesn't miss the look in his eyes: worry, so carefully shielded that Jared is most likely the only one who can detect it.

"Admiral committee, Captain," Danneel says, motioning to the screen. Jared nods at her in thanks.

"I've received a report from an officer Kane," Jared says; Jensen makes an aborted movement by his side. "There was interference during his hail, but he says he and his crew are involved in a possible hostage situation."

"Planet?" Admiral Ferris asks.

"Orion IV. I request permission to investigate the situation."

"There's no available backup in the area," Admiral Heyerdahl says. "Furthermore, we've never made contact with that planet, and therefore we can't grant you authorization to go."

"So we're leaving them to die out there?"

Admiral Heyerdahl gives him a blank look and stays silent.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Captain, watch your tone," warns Admiral Fuller, his eyes narrowed. Jared opens his mouth to continue but there's a soft touch to his shoulder and he suddenly feels calmer. He can imagine Jensen shaking his head.

Pick your battles.

"Sir," Jared says, inhaling. "I can't ignore the call on good conscience."

"Good thing we don't operate on conscience," Heyerdahl smiles without any trace of levity. "We operate on protocol, although I see you have difficulty with such a concept."

Danneel makes a noise, too soft to be picked up by the transmission, but it sounds like a derisive grunt. Jared's not sure if she's agreeing with Heyerdahl or not.

"Captain Padalecki," Heyerdahl says. "If you go to Orion IV, you will be court-martialed and I can assure you, I will let no meek penalty slide."

"Admiral -"

" _Do not go,_ " Heyerdahl repeats, his tone so threatening that Sandy recoils from the screen. "Do you understand me?"

Jared doesn't say anything.

"I said, _do you understand me?_ "

There's a scary hatred in Heyerdahl's eyes - a fear, almost.

"I hear you," Jared says. "I hear you, sir."

"Good," Heyerdahl says, nodding. "We will discuss the matter and you will proceed on schedule. Heyerdahl out."

The bridge is deathly silent for a while with the exception of Cindy's low whistle. Jared gnaws on his lip, thinks, takes a breath.

"Sandy, plot the course for Orion IV."

Danneel whips her head around so quickly that her ponytail could cut through ice.

Sandy's hand hesitates on the dials. "Sir?"

"You heard me."

"What are you doing?" Jensen says quietly.

"What do you think? We're going back."

"Cool," Danneel says with a grin. "I dig it."

"Was he not listening?" Chad says, looking around the bridge. The rest of delta squad stands next to him, waiting for Jared's orders. "I feel like he wasn't listening. We're gonna get in a shitload of trouble for this."

Jared glares at him. "Shut up, Ensign."

There's another snicker from the comm station, and Jared feels kind of bad for his unprofessional language. A very small amount.

"Course plotted," Sandy says. She rests her hands in her lap and waits.

"We'll be there in two hours, Cap," Cindy adds, grin on her face. She's on his side, at least.

Jared nods. "Good, thank you." He turns to the bridge. "Anybody have a problem with this? Let me know if you do, and I can send you right on home."

Nobody says a damn word. Chad looks like it's a struggle.

"Jensen, tell me about this planet."

Jensen doesn't miss a beat. "Average temperature is 20 degrees Celsius. Daylight approximately sixteen hours; surface is fifty-six percent water. Inhabitants relatively unknown, as Admiral Heyerdahl has already stated, the Navy has yet to make contact with Orion IV."

"That doesn't sound ominous," Cindy says, spinning in her chair. Jared ignores her.

"All right, Ensign Murray, Lieutenant Smith, and Ensign Benz, come with me."

Danneel whirls around. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, what part of that was unclear to you?"

Stunned, she shakes her head, but to her credit she comes to stand next to him, speaking quietly so that no one else can hear. "You should be taking your strongest team. I'm sorry, I know Murray is a decent linguist, but I'm better. Smith's a good medic but he's no Jeff."

"I don't know what's out there," Jared says, just as quietly. "And both of them are more than _decent_ and _good_. You two aren't coming. End of story. Now get back to your station."

Her mouth thins but she nods, obeying him.

"Delta team?"

Chad's eyes nearly bug out, but Jared doesn't pay him any mind.

"I'm coming as well," Jensen says, standing up.

"No, you're not. You're to remain behind in charge."

"Lieutenant Sampson is more than capable of handling the ship in our absence."

"That's true; I am," Cindy interjects.

"It's not a matter of capability," Jared says. "If something happens planetside -"

"I'm coming," Jensen interrupts. His hands are curled into fists at his sides; his gaze is steady. (And a little intimidating.)

Jared takes a step toward the lift and Jensen moves right along with him.

"Jensen," Jared says under his breath so that nobody else can hear. "Normally I'd want you right by my side, you know that. I trust you above everyone else, but I can't afford to take you with me."

"My apologies, Captain, but I'm coming," Jensen says. "With or without you."

"Why?"

Jensen squares his jaw. "With or without you. And you need another individual adequately trained in combat."

Jared lets his gaze drift over Jensen's shoulder, where Jeff is now watching them, no doubt having heard Cindy's call for delta squad. Jeff nods his head a bit; despite the fact that he didn't hear the conversation, he knows Jared better than anyone. 

"Fine," Jared says finally. Danneel's mouth drops open in betrayal (a perfect example of the downside of lip-reading abilities.) "But you've got to understand that I'm in charge here and you can't undermine my authority like that in front of the crew, do you get that? Never. Again."

Jensen nods, looking slightly contrite. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Jared blows out a breath. "I wouldn't want to have to throw you in the brig."

Jensen hesitates. "A joke?"

Jared eyes him. "Kinda? I've always wanted to say that."

"Oh."

"For fuck's sake," Jared mutters. "Come on. I want to get everything squared away with the away team, okay? And you're going to keep your mouth shut."

Jensen nods, quiet. It's totally not the time, but Jared can't help but think about other ways to keep Jensen's mouth shut. 

Fuck you, hypocritical brain.

:::

_So I think I'm about to do something really stupid._

_You'd approve, but you always were a dumbass._


	4. Chapter 4

For the most part, the shuttle is quiet. Riley keeps watch out the window, his face lit up - he loves leaving the ship, and he's damn good with his weapon. Julie is as professional as ever, her blonde hair tied up neatly and her back straight against the chair. She gives him a soft smile when he catches her eye. Chad's pouting.

"I don't have to leave the shuttle, right?"

Jared rolls his eyes. "Carry on like that and you'll be the first one off, get my drift?"

Jared swears that Jensen snorts, but when he glances over, Jensen is as stone-faced as ever.

"This is your duty," Julie says, her hands folded on her lap. She could give Jensen a run for his money. "You should feel honored that you were chosen."

Chad's glare clearly indicates how much he disagrees with her, and he turns to the side, grumbling to himself and pulling at the collar of his red shirt.

Jared takes his own glance out the window, seeing the dark purple surface of the planet. The water looks so clear he can picture seeing the bottom when they draw close. Titanium buildings sit to the east, and Jared squints, searching for any sign of movement.

"Hey," he starts to say, wanting to alert the pilot, but he chokes down the words when the ship rocks, nearly flipping upside down with a clap of thunder. Sirens scream in his ears and a body presses against him, pinning him to the wall.

"Captain -" Jensen is saying, but he's cut off; there's a yelp that Jared is pretty sure came from Chad. Hands paw at Jared's chest: he sees blonde hair that's drifted out of its clip. Julie pulls away, staggering to her feet and heading for the control center.

"Wait!" Jared calls out, but another hit pushes him off his chair and to the floor. The lights flicker off, then on, then completely off, plunging them into darkness. "Julie?"

He can still hear her, cursing, then breathing harshly. "Captain, the pilot has been knocked unconscious."

"I can fly," Riley says quickly, and Jared blinks in the dark, hoping that when he next opens his eyes he'll be able to see what the fuck is going on.

"Go," Jared says, giving a shove to who he hopes is Riley. "Jensen?"

"I'm here," Jensen says. His voice sounds like it's coming from below, and Jared reaches out awkwardly, fumbling for his arm.

"I'm just fine, thanks for asking," Chad says, his voice shaky. "Just fine and dandy."

"Good," Jared grunts, latching on to a wrist that's slightly warmer than his own. Gotcha. "Keep quiet, then."

The shuttle spins as Jared tugs Jensen to his feet and Jensen ends up on his lap; Jared can feel his breath against his neck.

"Sorry," Jensen says, his hands on Jared's shoulders as he tries to propel himself up. Jared helps roll him over until he's back on the chair next to Jared.

"Stay there," Jared says, reaching out so he can feel his way to the control center. "Julie? Riley?"

"Uh, I think we're a little fucked, Captain," Riley answers, voice unsteady. Sparks fly from the panel. "Wait - make that a lot fucked. I can't get anything back online."

Jared takes a deep breath and thinks of all his training, about Cadet Jackson and his heart attack. His own heart is pounding now, but he pushes that all away, down deep. He knows there are only seconds before they're going to make a peremptory landing (he giggles at that, a little out of sorts), so he's got to move quickly. 

"Get back here," he says, feeling his way back to the seat, back to Jensen's even breathing. "Prepare for crash landing."

"Yes, sir," Riley says, and there's the whoosh of seatbelts as they click closed. "Cap?"

"Yeah?"

"It was nice serving with you."

Jared opens his mouth to tell him he's being a fucking idiot, everything's going to be fine, he'll make sure of that, but everything goes black.

:::

The first thing Jared notices before he even opens his eyes is the temperature. Goosebumps erupt on his skin and there's a slight chill down his spine. He groans, tucking his arms against his chest. Prying his eyes open he stares up at the sky; it's a light purple, and if he's stupidly looking for the _Sydney_ , well, he'd never admit it out loud.

"Jensen?" he finally manages to call out as he struggles to his feet, reaching out blindly to steady himself. Then his mouth goes dry.

The tree bark under his hand is too hot to the touch, and he pulls away, nearly falling over again. His legs tangle in the blades of grass, which reach his knees. When he looks up he squints, the suns' reflection changing the leaves to bright red. He can't even see the tops of the trees.

"Jensen?" he calls out again, letting his eyes take the size of the branches.

"Jared."

Relieved, Jared turns around to see Jensen climbing over the roots of a tree trunk, his hair mussed and dirt on one cheek. His sleeves are torn at the elbow and shoulder.

"What the hell happened? Where's the shuttle?"

"This way," Jensen gestures. The shuttle is wrecked beyond repair - God, he really doesn't want to see Misha's face on this one - and Jared examines the scorch marks on the ripped open side.

"What the?"

"It appears to have been a rocket," Jensen says, running his fingers over the edges.

"A rocket? Seems a bit archaic, wouldn't you say?"

"Agreed," Jensen nods. "And their 'shoot first, ask questions later' method of investigation is troubling."

Jared blows out a breath and stands back up, pulling out his communicator.

"Disabled," Jensen says.

"They can disable communicators but rockets are apparently the height of their weapon ability?"

"Interesting, isn't it?"

"Not really," Jared sighs. "Have you seen Julie or Riley? Chad?"

"I haven't, nor the pilot," Jensen says, and he gnaws on his bottom lip for the briefest of moments. "You were my first priority."

A warm feeling floods through Jared's chest, but he automatically feels guilty for it. "Okay. We've gotta look for the others."

"They can't have gone far regardless," Jensen says, then stops, looking a little horrified. "I apologize, that was insensitive."

Jared tries to ignore the image of their bodies being flung from the shuttle and just moves on, ripping the grass out of his way as he goes. Jensen trails behind him, and the sound of him pulling out his weapon causes Jared to pull out his own. It's still deathly quiet, unnervingly so, and he tries to hold his own breath to listen for something, anything.

God, what if he lost some of his crew? What if he hand-picked them only for them to get killed?

"We'll find them," Jensen says, almost sounding reassuring. "We shouldn't stray far from the crash site, as that is the one objective they should be looking for."

Jared nods and takes a breath. The air is slightly sweet, a little heavy in his lungs. The ground is loose under his feet; he's sunk down a few inches in the short time of standing still. When he looks up, he can barely see the tops of the trees. Suddenly he gets the image of his neighbor's daughter, Maria, and the dollhouse with which she'd play on her front lawn, the tiny plastic husband and wife.

He's got a pretty good idea of what they would feel like.

A crunch of leaves: Jared starts, grabs his weapon, and turns around.

"Stop. Neither of you move."

Jared finds himself staring at a holster, free of its weapon. He lets his eyes drift up (and up, and up) until he finally makes eye-contact with the body's owner, along with his companion. They're huge: Jared's pretty sure the top of his head would barely reach their waists. They've each got armor on but it looks worn down: overused. One has red hair with light yellow eyes, and he makes Jared swallow nervously. The other one is no less intimidating in stature, dark hair with matching eyes, but at least he's watching Jared with more curiosity than hatred. When Jared takes a closer look, he sees another hand coming out of their wrists, keeping their guns carefully steady.

"All right," Jared says, keeping his hands up. Jensen does the same, although he almost does so lazily. He and the dark haired guy are staring at each other. "We're not here to hurt you. I promise. My name is Captain Jared Padalecki of the USS _Sydney_ , and this is my first officer, Jensen."

The men eye both of them carefully, and Jared does his best to keep his shoulders square and his expression neutral.

"Barr," says the redhead. "This is Martel."

"Great," Jared says, keeping his hands raised. "Wish I could be meeting you in better circumstances, Barr and Martel."

Martel stares him down. "What is your purpose here?"

"One of our ships crashed here. We just want to rescue them. That's all. We'll be gone and out of your hair as soon as we accomplish that goal."

Jensen shifts beside him. Jared grits his teeth and hopes that Jensen stays quiet.

Barr frowns. "No ship has crashed here. Besides yours."

 _Yeah, we crashed with your help._ "Then why did we get a distress signal that said they did?"

Barr exchanges a knowing look with Martel. "They must have crashed on the other side."

"Other side, great. That sounds great. So we can go ahead and slip right on through, eh?"

"I wouldn't advise that," Martel says.

"Why not?"

"Relations are...shall we say, poor between us and them."

Jared feels like he's been caught in a carousel. "Who's them?"

Barr and Martel look at each other again; Jared contemplates reaching for his weapon, but he's very aware of Martel's unwavering grip on his own gun.

"It's not going to be your concern," Martel says finally.

Jared finally tears his eyes away from the second pair of hands. "Look, we could stand around here all day and argue, but we're going whether you like it or not."

Jensen coughs, most likely his way of saying _shut up, dumbass._

Jared adds: "Please."

He can almost hear Jensen's eyeroll.

Barr cocks his gun. "Sure. Go ahead, take a step."

Jared eyes the weapon. "All right," he says. "Nobody has to shoot anybody."

"Mm," Jensen says, which, to anyone else, may sound like a hum of agreement, but Jared knows better.

Martel takes a step closer, and he frowns as he takes in Jared's uniform. His mouth thins out and he shoots Barr another look. 

"Let's go," Martel says, raising his weapon. Jared frowns at the change of his tone.

"What -"

"He said _move it_ ," Barr says through gritted teeth. Adds under his breath: "Navy scum."

 _What_ , Jared mouths to Jensen. Jensen shrugs.

"This might make things more difficult," he says quietly.

"You think?" Jared spits. "I hadn't noticed."

Jensen takes a step closer to Jared. His body heat sends a tingle up Jared's spine. "I await your orders, Captain."

"Oh, _now_ you're willing to listen to me? Convenient, don't you think?"

"I always listen."

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

Barr snorts. "Is there always this much dissent between you two?"

"Yes," Jared says.

"No," Jensen says. Jared barely manages to suppress the urge to massage his temples.

"I see," Martel says in a tone that clearly states otherwise. "If you follow us peaceably, there will be no need for anyone to be harmed. We don't have the authority to clear you ourselves."

"Acceptable security measures," Jensen says. His eyes stare at the barrel of Martel's gun while his fingers flex by his sides. "Although I'm not sure as to how you plan to properly ascertain our motives."

"You'll see," Barr says, and the smile that slowly forms on his face gives Jared the willies.

"We've still got other crew members," Jared protests. "We lost them in the crash; I need to find them before we go anywhere."

"You don't have much say here, friend," Barr says. "I'll make you a deal - if we find them, we'll send them right along. How does that sound?"

Jared clenches his teeth.

"I don't find that deal suitable," Jensen says.

"You have a big mouth, friend," Barr says. "Has that ever come in handy for you in the past?"

Jensen bares his teeth. "Perhaps."

Jared - whose own mouth absolutely hasn't gone dry at thinking about the possibilities of Jensen's, um, abilities - clears his throat. "Apologies," he says. "My first officer has been ill as of late."

"Yes, because that's believable," Jensen says.

"Holy shit, will you _shut the fuck up_? Do you want to die?"

"Not particularly."

"Look," Jared says, turning back to Barr. "We -"

"You need to shut the fuck up, too," Barr says.

Barr gestures for them to start walking, and he falls into step behind them while Martel marches in front of them, his weapon easily visible in his hands. Jared doesn't recognize it but he's not willing to find out what it does first-hand, either.

He has to be extra careful because he keeps almost tripping over everything - huge tree limbs hidden under the forest of grass, so-called pebbles the size of watermelons.

"You two are small," Barr comments. "Very small. Where are you from?" His voice sounds light, airy: fake. His tense shoulders give him away - not to mention his narrowed eyes and curled lip.

"I hope you don't mind if we keep that information to ourselves," Jared says as he climbs over yet another root. "And we may be small, but we're _feisty._ "

"Good one," Jensen says.

"We don't have many outside visitors," Martel says without turning around. "It would be fascinating to study you."

"No wonder, if you shoot rockets at anyone who comes close," Jared says under his breath.

"What was that?" Barr's voice is low, threatening.

"Nothing," Jared sighs. "We don't want to be studied, thanks."

"It may not be your decision."

Jared intakes a breath to continue, but Jensen hums quietly, and Jared hears the _be silent_ loud and clear. Ironic, Jared wants to sneer, but he can save that for another time. When they're back on the ship and Jensen is spread out underneath him. Naked.

He curses his dick at times like these. Fucking piece of shit. Danneel better get down here because he'd love to watch her kick some ass.

The rest of the march is spent in silence, but Jared takes good care to take in the surroundings, some sort of opening, a weakness. Already he's lost track of their path; everything looks the same. Jensen stares straight ahead but his fingers flex against his sides.

"We're here," Martel finally announces. Jared stares at a tiny flag planted into the ground, but that's all that there is. Barr moves in front of them while Martel takes a step back, his gun still pointed at Jared. Barr crouches down and draws in the dirt, muttering under his breath, and Jared jumps when the ground starts to shift. Martel doesn't move, so Jared does the same. Jensen watches with one eyebrow arched, his expression curious, and Jared pictures the wheels turning in his brain as to how the engineering is working.

It's almost pitch black, but Jared can make out a sloping staircase.

"In you go," Barr says, motioning. Martel takes point again and Barr jabs the gun in the small of Jared's back.

"Fuck, ow, not necessary," Jared glares, but he has to work to stabilize himself as Jensen's pushed in after him. Jensen takes the movement quietly, his fingers tapping the small of Jared's back. It feels sort of nice, but it would feel better if -

Stupid piece of shit dick.

Lights come on with every step they take. It's rank, musky, and a little cold; Jensen shudders behind him but doesn't make a sound. When they get to the bottom, they can barely see, but there's a crowd of people near the front of the room. Barr moves away from them, motioning to Martel behind his back. Martel pushes them to the side.

"Hands on the wall."

Jared sighs but obeys. Craning his head, he watches as Barr talks to who looks like the guy in charge: he's taller, with flecks of gray in his beard. Not to mention the fact that he's sitting on a chair at the front of the room and is dressed in slightly finer clothes than the others. Which, granted, means that his clothes have less holes in them. The guy's eyes flick over to them, widen, and then he stalks on over. He looks down at the emblem on Jared's shirt, then back up at Jared.

"You're with the Navy?"

"Yes," Jared says carefully. The guy looks over at Jensen.

"And you?"

"Yes," Jensen answers. The guy nods thoughtfully, then he raises the gun and hits Jensen in the head with the butt.

"Hey!" Jared hollers, but the guy turns the rifle on him and that's all she wrote.

:::

It's not so cold this time he opens his eyes. His cheek is pressed against something cold, concrete. His head hurts like a motherfucker, shit. He simply breathes for a moment and waits for the pain to recede, but it doesn't, really. Then his eyes pop open.

_Ouch._

"Jensen?"

A pat to his ankle.

"What assholes," Jared mumbles, rolling over on his back. "You okay?"

"Been better." Jensen rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. His wince is almost invisible; he smears blood on his face, then brings his hand down and stares.

"Yeah," Jared sighs, pushing himself up so he can rest across the wall. His vision swims with the movement and he takes another second for it to clear. "Need stitches?"

"It's fine."

Jared squints. "You're bleeding a hell of a lot."

"It's fine," Jensen repeats. "On the other hand, your face doesn't look so great."

Jared huffs a laugh. "Now you get a sense of humor?"

Jensen looks puzzled. "I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Right."

Jensen finally lets his lip curl up at the corner, blood running down his temple. He wipes at it again. "Maybe a little." He looks around a bit. "Guess I did end up in the brig."

"Har, har. You're fucking hilarious, you know that?"

Jensen's still on his back and he makes no movement to sit up. "I await your orders, Captain."

Cheeky bastard. "Yeah, working on that," Jared mumbles, massaging his temples. "This would be taking a step backwards, wouldn't you say?"

"I figured this was one of your non-standard methods."

"Yes," Jared says. "Yes, Plan A was definitely getting ourselves captured while losing even more members of our crew. You know me so well."

"They may be in a better situation than we are."

"Hope so," Jared mutters. He blinks, trying to clear his double vision that's crept up on him. "So, clearly that guy recognized us."

Jensen snorts, resting his forearm over his eyes. "I'd say so."

"Wasn't fond of us."

"Won't disagree there."

"And they haven't killed us."

"Succinct summation."

"I'm not dying down here," Jared says. "Well, if I am, it's certainly not cowed in some cell."

"I would also prefer to avoid that particular consequence."

The next words out of Jared's mouth should be discussing their plan of action, but instead: "Told you that you shouldn't have come."

Jensen's arm falls back to his side and he narrows his eyes, but he's still staring at the ceiling. "Really. So instead, you could be sitting in this cell alone."

Jared rubs his temple. "I don't need you to protect me."

"It's my job."

"Your _job_ is to be my SIC."

Jensen hums and folds his hands on his stomach. "Semantics."

Jared tries not to roll his eyes for the sake of his aching head. "Right." He twists, feeling the wall. For what, he's not sure.

"I know who sent the distress call."

"What?" Jared struggles to remember. "Kane?"

"Yes."

"And you decided not to tell me this?"

"I'll be sure to inform you next time."

"Great, thanks," Jared spits out.

"You're welcome."

"So what's so special about this guy?"

Jensen crosses his legs at the ankles, looking like he's settling in. He looks too comfortable in a jail cell. "He's a friend."

"He's Kiberian?"

"No," Jensen says. "He moved with his mother when he was three. Lived next door."

Jared leans his head against the wall. "So - a friend?" His voice croaks; he clears his throat.

"Friend," Jensen agrees. He pauses. "Only a friend. I wasn't going to remain behind while he was here. He wouldn't have if it were me."

Jared hums under his breath. "I get it. Still, should have told me, man. As your commanding officer. You can't leave me in the dark like that."

"You're right," Jensen says. "My fault. Although, if I had told you, you would have made me remain behind."

Jared nudges Jensen with his foot. "Not necessarily."

"Protocol requires -"

"Yeah, well, sometimes I don't give a shit about protocol."

"I hadn't noticed," Jensen says.

Jared cracks a grin, then hesitates. He's not sure why, but he can't help the next question that pops out of his mouth. "So - what about your mother?"

Jensen looks over at him slowly. "What does this have to do with a plan on getting out of here?"

"All right, then. What's your idea?"

Jensen stares at him for a moment, then looks back up at the ceiling. "What about her?"

"Weatherly," Jared says. Jensen sighs. "I hear he brings her up against you. No - I want to know why he's such an ass to you."

Jensen rolls his bottom lip in his mouth. "He doesn't understand what 'no' means."

Jared presses himself away from the wall. "What -"

"Nothing happened," Jensen says. His feet tap the wall absently. "I can take care of myself, but he doesn't handle rejection well. Combine that with a desire for a leadership position that was never fulfilled, and, well. You can imagine the rest."

"The second we get back, I'm kicking his ass off the ship."

"He's a good scientist -"

"Nobody who tries to force himself on someone deserves -"

"I can take care of myself," Jensen repeats.

"You think that matters? Do you really think -"

"She died," Jensen interrupts. "My mother. I was four."

Jared gives him a long look; Jensen gives him a pleading one in return. Jared sighs, logs it away for future conversation, then: "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Not necessary," Jensen said. "She developed a serious illness." He looks down at his lap. "She suffered greatly the last year. My father didn't trust medicine; he thought he could use more natural means. He's a very stubborn man. Quite an ego, too. My grandparents - they disagreed with his methods."

"Can't really blame them, fuck," Jared says. "They couldn't overrule him in order to get her medical treatment?"

"No," Jensen says. "Kiberia values the spouse's decisions more than any other; my grandparents had no legal say in the matter. They never spoke to my father again after that."

"What happened with your father?"

"He wouldn't eat, sleep. He lost the ability to recognize pain; he spent three days walking on a broken leg." He stops. "He underwent a procedure in order to purge his emotions."

"Olympia," Jared says, unable to hold back a slight sneer.

"Yes," Jensen says. "Necessary for any council member; in order to make appropriate decisions, only intellectual abilities should be used. Emotions will only lead you astray."

"Did your father always want to join the council?"

"I suspect he did it under false pretenses," Jensen says. "You can't go through Olympia unless you're a council member, and I believe that's what he wanted. His grief was nearly overwhelming. He preferred to blame other people for her death. He said that I was especially bad luck."

"That's wonderful," Jared says sarcastically.

"It's not an uncommon matter. People experience grief in such a way frequently."

"Yeah, well, it's fucked up."

Jensen's lips quirked. "Yes, I suppose it is." He looks around the cell. "I am bad luck, perhaps."

"Yep, this is all your fault. God, you're such an asshole."

Jensen almost looks like he's about to laugh. "I knew Chris for years before he enlisted in the Navy; we've kept in contact but I've only seen him a handful of times since."

Jared feels a little dizzy by the abrupt changes in conversation. "Is that why you joined the Navy?"

Jensen frowns. "Why?"

"To be with him."

" _With_ him? No," Jensen says. "I wouldn't have said no to serving with him, but because of the circumstances, traveling in space seemed...appealing."

"I gotcha," Jared nods. He knows the feeling. "Getting away from it all and - all."

Jensen huffs out a laugh. "You always put things so eloquently."

Jared grins a little stupidly. "And you always understand exactly what I'm trying to say."

Jensen's lips quirk. "It's my job." Then, carefully, he reaches out and lays a hand on Jared's knee, squeezing. Jared smiles and puts his own hand on Jensen's wrist, enjoying the familiar heat.

"I won't say anything."

Jensen frowns. "About what?"

"Your father. What he said."

That eyebrow is still raised. "It's not some secret, Jared. It doesn't bother me if people know."

"Right," Jared sighs. He hears footsteps coming down the hall, and he sighs, letting his neck roll so he's looking at the door. "Well. I guess it's showtime, eh?"

Jensen finally struggles to his feet, releasing his hold on Jared's knee, his hand automatically going to his hip for his phaser. He frowns at himself when his hand comes up empty. 

The two guards that open the door are taller than Martel but shorter than Barr. The woman unlocks their cell door, a revolver in one of her right hands. 

"All right," says Goon Number Two. "You try anything, and I'll snap your neck right here and now."

"Okay," Jared says. "I like my neck."

"I don't," says Goon Number One, and she holds up her hand and make a measurement between her thumb and index finger. Jared easily imagines how his neck would fit ever so neatly right amidst those fingers.

"We're going," Jared says as one of them reaches out to grab him. "No need for manhandling, thanks. We're all sentient beings here."

"Right," says Number One. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

The march back to the main room is similar to their not so gentle prodding down the stairs, but Jared looks around anyway, considering he doesn't remember their first trip. The walls are bare and cracks cover the floor, but Jared figures if these four hundred pound people have been marching around them for God knows how long, they should be relatively safe from plunging to their death.

Relatively.

The head guy is standing now, and he has to be a foot taller than Barr, even. There's a dangerous look in his eyes, and Jared hopes desperately that Jensen keeps quiet this time around. Doesn't look like it would take much tempting for him to gouge out their eyes and pluck them on sticks.

(He, however, can bitch however much he wants.)

"Sir," Jared says before Jensen has the chance to speak, inclining his head. "We only want -"

"Theman," the man interrupts, nodding at himself. "And I know what you say you want. You claim that you're here to rescue your crew."

Jared nods. No point in saying anything further.

"Your Navy crew."

"Yes. You don't seem to care for the Navy."

"The Navy doesn't care for us," Theman says.

Jared frowns. "What? We have no record of you in our database."

"Of course," Theman says, meeting a knowing gaze of one of his henchman. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Enlighten me."

Theman stares at him, an incredulous, sarcastic look on his face. "You really don't know?"

Jared has to take a deep breath. "We really don't know. I don't know what else I can say to convince you."

Theman shakes his head, a curl to his lips. "You massacred hundreds of my people."

"Pardon?" Jensen says, thankfully, because Jared's mouth has gone dry.

"Your _Navy_ ," Theman spits, "killed my people because of what they termed to be a misunderstanding."

"What?" Jared says.

"They contacted us because they wanted to bring us into the Confederation," Theman says. "Upon meeting us, my young son made a sudden movement - I suppose I'll never know what for now, but he was unarmed. Your friend viewed it as a threat and shot him, right here," Theman points at his forehead. "Blasted out the back of his skull. My people responded, but your technology was vastly superior to ours, and it took ninety seconds for three hundred bodies to cover our soil."

Jared swallows.

"They didn't touch you," Jensen says, clearly a question.

"I wasn't there," Theman says, casting his eyes down. "I arrived after it happened. Your people were walking along to make sure they had killed every witness. Shamefully I remained out of sight, as did my top adviser."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jared demands. "Call the Navy admiral committee?"

"Can't," Theman says through gritted teeth. "Your crew walked away, walked over to the Chuins - _our enemies_ \- and gave them aid. Aid to suppress us. To keep us quiet. Made a deal to give them supplies, food, weaponry, in exchange to keep us down. They ripped away our technology, made it so we couldn't communicate beyond our world. We have nothing." He looked up. "I don't understand why they didn't kill us all. They should have." Self-deprecation drowns his tone.

"I can assure you, we knew nothing of this," Jared says quietly. "We are in no way affiliated with such behavior. I - I don't know what to say."

Theman's eyes narrow. "What you can say is to explain why _you_ are here."

Jared rubs at one of his eyes, Theman's men jumping at the movement. "We're here to rescue our crew. We have reason to believe that they've been taken hostage by the very people you're fighting against. These Chuins. I assure you, that's the truth."

"Of course. You're so trustworthy." Theman holds up a vial, twirling it between his fingers. In it is a blue liquid. "We'll find out once you swallow this."

Jared eyes the vial. "You really expect us to take that without truly knowing what's in it?"

Theman pulls up the rifle and points it at his nose. "There is an alternative."

Before Jared can even blink, Jensen (who's been so quiet that Jared had almost forgotten that he was there) takes one of the vials and downs it, his face twitching only slightly in indication of its horrific taste.

"Hey, hey," Jared protests. "What the hell is that?"

"Nothing lethal or even damaging," Theman says. "It only inspires truth."

"Truth serum?"

Theman ignores him. "Name and rank."

"Jensen, Commander, First Officer of the starship _Sydney_. Serial number VC 213-1291."

"Who sent you here?"

"No one; we came of our own accord."

"Did you have any prior knowledge of the slaughter committed by your Navy?"

"No."

"Why did you come?"

"We received a distress call from a member of our fleet."

Jared does his best to keep the _told you so_ off his face, but he's not sure he succeeds.

"What did this call say?"

"Oh, the usual," Jared says. "Having a great time, see you in six months."

Theman's eyes narrow. "Do not tempt me, boy."

"The captain prefers to draw attention toward himself rather than his crew," Jensen says.

"And why is that?"

"Protection, I assume. He can be reckless in that regard."

"Really," Theman raises an eyebrow. "Would you consider that to be a good quality in a captain?"

Jared's breath catches. "I don't see what this has anything to do with -"

A gun cocks behind him and he falls silent.

"Not at first," Jensen says, his mouth barely moving, like he has to force the words through his lips. "I've learned that his methods may atypical, but they are effective nonetheless."

"I see. Do you prefer these methods?"

Jensen's eyes drift toward Jared. "I do," he says. "He's a good captain, and a good man."

A smile threatens to burst onto Jared's face. _A good man._

"Such a dedicated first officer," the curl to Theman's lip doesn't look affectionate. "Tell me, how dedicated are you?"

All right, that's it. "You've heard enough," Jared says, mouth tight. "We proved that we're here for previously spoken reasons. We haven't lied to you. We have no intentions of harming you, and this line of questioning is inappropriate."

Jensen grits his teeth, the answer to Theman's question lingering on his tongue. He whispers something quietly, hidden under his breath, and Jared strains to hear the answer.

"My apologies," Theman says finally, looking slightly abashed.

Jared attempts to broach the subject again. "Sir. Theman. Is there anything we can do -" he stops, feeling stupid.

"You can kill all of those bastards that slaughtered my people. You can kill those that have been depriving us all of these centuries. How does that sound?"

"I don't know about killing," Jared says firmly, "but I can guarantee that if I can be given the opportunity to search for my crew, I will do everything I can to bring justice to your people."

Theman takes a step back, and one of his advisers steps forward, whispering in his ear. His expression remains blank, and Jared does his best to follow suit.

"You have no knowledge of the land," Theman says finally.

Jared hesitates, but Jensen answers him first.

"No."

"No knowledge of the wildlife or the terrain."

"No."

"And yet you intend to traipse into enemy territory."

"We're going to find our crew," Jensen says.

"Dedication," Theman repeats, more carefully this time.

"Damn right," Jared says. "You're telling me that if your people were missing, you wouldn't go and find them?"

Theman remains silent.

"You wouldn't, would you? If Barr went missing, you'd do nothing?"

Barr shifts behind him.

"We've lost many people," Theman says, his body as stiff as his tone. "You understand? You understand that they come over and pick off some of our people and commit such horrid acts upon them that you wouldn't ever want to dream about? We pick our battles."

Admiral Fuller's blank face appears in Jared's mind's eye, that blase tone that was so infuriating. Guess it's something that shows up amongst all cultures.

"Well, that's not how I do things. I won't let my people be stuck there. You hold no authority over us, so if you'll excuse us -"

"Wait," Martel says. He straightens, takes a step forward. "I'll offer you my assistance."

Theman's eyes widen. "My boy."

Jared blinks. "I can't ask that of you."

"You aren't asking," Martel says. "I'm giving. I don't want to sit around and wait any longer." He turns to Theman. "We have no military of our own; we simply set up our flimsy attempts of protection and wait for them to come and kill us."

"There is no other option," Theman says, lips thin. "We have no weapons to rival their own. It would be a march to our death."

"We make no attempts to rebuild our technology," Martel argues. "We have nothing, but everyone started from nothing. Our lack of weaponry is no excuse. I'm going, and I don't seek your permission."

His gaze slides to Barr. Barr sighs.

"I will as well," Barr says. Jared doesn't miss how his gaze avoids Theman's. 

"Barr -" Theman begins.

"I can provide you with equipment for the trip," Barr continues. His mouth tightens. "Armor and such."

Suddenly everyone is looking everywhere but at Barr, and the uneasiness is so evident that even Jensen is shuffling his feet. Jared wants to ask but he only nods his head in thanks.

"Theman?"

Theman looks up.

"The captain from the Navy - what was his name?"

Theman hesitates for a moment.

"Please."

"Heyerdahl," Theman says finally. "Christopher Heyerdahl."

:::

Barr lives ten minutes down the road, and Martel remains behind, telling them to swing back his way to pick him up when they're ready. Barr seems relieved, and Jared can only frown. He's never felt so out of his element before; he's usually so good at reading people.

This walk is much better; Barr feels like a protector rather than someone who's going to kick their ass. Still, he's cautious, taking them the back route so that no one sees them, constantly looking over his shoulder.

"Heyerdahl," Jared hisses.

"Yes," Jensen says.

"Fuckin' Heyerdahl. He looked me right in the eye and said that we had no need to be here. That it was new territory so we shouldn't go exploring without back-up and more information."

"He did."

"How many people do you think covered all of this up? Huh? How far does it go?"

Jensen's hand catches Jared's. "I don't know. We'll figure it out; right now we need to focus on the crew. We don't have the available resources for much investigation."

Jared sighs; Jensen's fingers are nice and warm around his. "So the other side has our technology."

"They have our technology as of thirty years ago. They may not be up to date."

"Or Heyerdahl has been keeping them updated to keep Theman and his people under wraps."

Jensen hesitates. "I hate to mention it, but perhaps they would view us as an ally. It may need to be something to take into consideration."

"What, act like we're there to help against Theman? Like we were sent from Heyerdahl?"

"Perhaps act in a manner that would lead them to interpret our behavior as such while shielding our true intentions."

Jared's eyes slide ahead to Barr's huge back. "That's a possibility."

It's almost a little too much to take in at once, but he knows he doesn't have the luxury of pushing it aside. Prioritize and execute. He can do that. He's always been good at that. It's probably the only thing that's ever given his mother any sort of pride, much to Sam's consternation.

_You'll become just like her if you stick around. You'll see._

Jared shakes it off: get the equipment and outline a plan. No problem.

Jensen squeezes his hand. Jared realizes that they've been holding hands almost the entire trip, but he doesn't release Jensen's fingers. 

They remain quiet until they arrive. Barr's house is tall, although it looks to be a simple one-level place, bricked, windows covered with curtains. A well-kept garden rests off to the side, with fully grown vegetables that Jared can't place. Despite the war ravaged land, it looks like a _home_.

Barr opens the door and motions them inside, watching as Jared and Jensen climb their way in. Jared stares longingly at the huge armchair; he could probably sleep on it with room to spare if he wanted to, and there's nothing more he'd like to do than crawl on top and curl around Jensen's warm body.

He's distracted by a grinding sound, and he looks over to the next room to see a woman holding a sword over a stone, sharpening the edges. A sword that would probably reach Jared's shoulders in height, and he takes careful note of how easily the woman handles it.

"Shera," Barr says.

Shera doesn't look up at first, her fastidious precision focused on holding the sword in place. She doesn't jump at Barr's voice; rather, she carefully finishes up the job. When she's done, she places it in its sheath and stands, a welcoming smile on her face that freezes when she sees Jared and Jensen.

Shera is a tall woman with green-tinged skin and golden eyes. Dark hair is tied back in a plait, climbing several feet down her back. One of her hands is terribly scarred, and Jared doesn't let his gaze linger.

"Huh," she says, but she doesn't sound surprised. She touches Jared's head with her index finger. The edge of her finger is sharp, each one filed to a point, but it doesn't cut his skin. "What are you?"

"Human," Jared says, rubbing his head. "We don't really live close by."

"Indeed," Shera says, looking him over before her gaze drifts to Barr. "What's going on?"

"Somebody hit our shuttle with a rocket," Jared says, looking at Barr suspiciously.

Barr coughs. "Following orders."

"Ma'am," Jared says, turning to Shera. Shera raises an eyebrow. "We received a distress call from fellow members of our fleet that informed us that their ship crashed here." He can't help the almost monotone voice with how many times he's told people that over the past few hours.

Shera's eyes slide over to Barr's. "I haven't heard anything about a downed ship."

"It wasn't downed on this side."

"Oh," Shera says knowingly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Jared frowns at her tone. "Sorry?"

"They're lost," Shera says, as if she's speaking to a young child.

"They're not lost," Jared says. "We're going to get them."

"We?" Shera repeats.

"I'm going along," Barr says. He pauses for a moment. "As is Martel."

Shera takes a step back. "Both of you?"

Barr doesn't answer, but he keeps his gaze fixed on hers. She shakes her head.

"You understand the consequences."

"You know I do."

Shera stays quiet for a moment, looking back at her sword with a frown. Jared wonders why she keeps it so well prepared, but he can't imagine living in a world where he would have no warning of an attack like this. He also can't help wondering if she's ever used it.

Her gaze turns to the living room, staring at something that Jared can't see, but whatever it is almost takes the fight out of her.

"I guess I'll be joining as well."

"Shera -"

"Don't be an idiot," she says. "I won't remain behind while you two go off." She smiles and cups Barr's cheek. "I'm assuming this was Martel's idea?"

"Who else's?" They laugh, like it's some sort of sad, private joke, and Jensen watches them with a strange look on his face.

"You don't have to," Jared says quietly. "One more person won't make much difference and I don't want anyone else -"

"Oh, be quiet," Shera interrupts. She steps away from Barr and traces the handle of her sword. "We're free to make our own choices, and we've been quiet for far too long. _All_ of us."

Barr makes a soft noise and Jared can't interpret the look he gives her. She's pointedly ignoring his gaze now.

"You want to fill me in on the details?"

As Barr explains to her what happened, Jared watches as Jensen starts walking around the room, looking over the photos on the wall. Jared makes out Shera, Barr, and Martel with two children (who are probably taller than Jensen), and an older couple that must be one of their parents. Underneath the photos sits a huge couch with a few holes the size of Jared's head torn in the fabric, a pair of boots with the laces untied sitting by the ottoman.

"Okay," Shera says. She gives her sword another pat.

"That's it?" Jared says. "'Okay'?"

"Do you want to go or not?" she responds, eyes narrowed. "You want to save your team - we're willing to help, so let's go."

Jared nods. _Yes, ma'am._ "You know nothing about Heyerdahl?"

"Nothing beyond what Theman knows," she says. "I can't say that he should be a top priority right now, yeah? We're a little in over our heads with what we've got at present to even think that far ahead. Now, we don't have much in terms of weapons, but I can offer you what's left."

Jensen perks up. "What do you have?"

"Well," Shera says, beckoning them to the adjacent room. Barr trails behind them. Shera opens a chest and pulls out a rifle, which she hands to Jared. "That's got plenty of bullets, although I'd still recommend you save them to the best of your ability."

"Thanks, wouldn't have thought of that," Jared says. She rolls her eyes at him and reaches back into the chest, pulling out a crossbow that's seen better days.

"My father trained me with this," she says, placing it in Jensen's lap. "It may look like shit, but it still works damn well. I don't have many bolts for this, but there are plenty of options available to you in the backyard."

Jensen takes it, running his fingers along the torn edges. It's huge in his hands, looking like it could topple Jensen over, but he holds it steady with ease. "It's perfect," he says. He stands and brings it up to his eyes, aiming for the doorframe. There's a split second when Jared thinks that he's actually going to release a bolt until Jensen slings it over his shoulder. "How do we figure out where the crew is being held?"

"My brother," Shera says. She casts a careful eye at her windows.

"It's all right," Barr tells her. "Martel is taking care of it." At Jared's questioning look, he elaborates. "Any communication between the sides earns a penalty of death."

"Your brother is with the Chuins?"

Shera's jaw tightens. "Yes."

"How?"

She doesn't answer, choosing instead to set up the hologram. Barr shakes his head behind her, and Jared swallows his tongue.

Shera's brother looks nothing like her; his hair is light red, skin wisteria. His gaze is much softer, and when he sees Shera he sinks down to the ground.

"Hishera," he says, holding out her hand. He reaches out and closes the door behind him and listens carefully for a moment. Apparently satisfied, he turns back to the hologram.

"Are you okay? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Hona," Shera says, a sad smile on her face. "And you?"

"Things are acceptable," Hona says. "I'm all right, sister."

Shera takes a breath, looking like she wants to ask more questions, but she stops. "Did a ship crash near you?"

"Yes," Hona nods, looking surprised. "Yesterday. How - how did you know?"

"Where are they?" Jared says before Shera can continue. "Are they okay?"

Hona peers at him. "Who are you?"

"It seems to be a long story," Shera says. "Hona, where are they?"

Hona watches Jared for another moment before answering. "In the prison. Peya has decided to deal with them in a - similar manner as the way she treats your people."

"What does that mean?" Jared demands. "How are they treated?"

Shera's look turns pitying. "Oh, my dear."

Hona turns slightly to the side, then back at the hologram. "I can't stay much longer."

Jared moves closer. "Can you tell me where they are?"

Hona waits for Shera to nod her head. "Three miles west of the church, although I suspect they won't remain there for long."

"The amphitheater," Barr says.

"The amphitheater," Hona confirms.

"The _address_ ," Jared says through gritted teeth. He's not ready to think about what's happening to them; he's ready to get moving.

"Twelve minute walk from the barrier," Hona says. "Go southwest; you won't miss it." He looks behind him again. "Most likely you won't make it that far. Security's tight; they'll know when you've crossed over into our territory. I hope you have a good back up plan?"

Jared figured as much, but the news is still disappointing. "We're working on it."

"Ah," Hona says. He turns back to Shera. "I wish I could offer more, Shera. But I may be able to attempt to convey information should you make it across. Be safe."

The hologram shuts off abruptly, and Jensen gets back on his feet. 

"Come on," Jared says finally, breaking the silence. "We've got to get ready. You said you had armor?"

Shera stiffens, looks questioningly at Barr. "What?"

"It's in the back," Barr says, and this time he's the one avoiding Shera's gaze as he steps beside her and disappears.

Jensen nods and turns to Jared. "What's the plan?"

"We should assume that the ban against communication drops once we cross into their land," Jared says. "They communicate off-planet themselves, after all."

"And who do you plan on contacting?" 

"Not the admiral committee," Jared mutters. "Steven, I think. He's the only one I trust at the moment."

"What do we do until he can send aid, if he even can?"

"We have a few bunkers," Shera intercedes. She shrugs. "Can't say I have the utmost confidence that we'd be able to get back here undetected, but -"

"Thank you," Jared interrupts. "Where is the one closest to the barrier?"

"I can show you along the way," Shera says. Jared nods.

"Once we've alerted them to our presence, you three -" Jared indicates Barr, Shera, and the absent Martel " - duck away and make for that prison first. Jensen and I will remain behind and wait for the Chuins to meet us. We can pretend that we're Navy ambassadors sent to deliver supplies."

"We don't have supplies," Jensen deadpans. Jared sighs.

"I realize that, but we can keep their attention long enough for the others to escape detection. We can prove that we're Navy officers; they shouldn't harm us."

"I like plans based on 'shouldn'ts'," Jensen says.

"If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears, man."

Jensen holds up his hands. "Not criticizing, sir." He pats the crossbow. "I'm on board." 

Maybe Jensen is only playing the role of a supportive first officer, but Jared will take what he can get.

"There's an underground tunnel leading to the amphitheater," Shera says. "I don't believe it's used much anymore, and the security should be lighter. If you can somehow keep the majority of security's attention, we should be able to remove the rest and depart through there. "

Barr's loud footsteps cause Jared to turn around; Barr sets the armor on the couch. Shera looks at it, her mouth turned down at the corners. 

"Should fit you," she manages. She gestures toward Jared, the movement stiff. 

"Perhaps you could show me your backyard?" Jensen asks Barr. "Shera informed me that I could manufacture bolts for the crossbow there."

It's far from subtle, but Shera's shoulders relax minutely as the two leave her and Jared alone. Jared steps in front of her, raising his arms so Shera can fit the armor around his torso.

"This armor is small," Jared says carefully. Shera pauses.

"It was my son's," she says finally.

"Your son?"

Shera's hands continue to tighten the armor. "He was killed three years ago."

Jared remembers the picture on the wall. "How old was he?"

Shera's eyes darken. "Not old enough."

"They let children fight?"

"There's not much choice," Shera says. "It's not our decision to make."

Jared winces, not wanting to ask. He's wearing the armor of a child. He's wearing the armor of a child, and that makes it feel extra heavy on his back, the convolution of blood and innocence almost overpowering.

"The other set was my daughter's," Shera continues, to Jared's surprise. "She survived, but - but she's gone."

Jared hesitates. "What happened?"

Shera doesn't look at him. "She chose not to come back."

There's a sort of finality in her tone, a pain that's a little too familiar for Jared's tastes. 

"I understand," Jared offers, and her hands still, remaining on his shoulders. "My brother was on Tarsus during the famine. When we finally got him back, he was nearly dead from starvation and didn't talk for three months. He'd throw up almost every time we managed to get him to eat anything."

Shera continues the fitting, but her fingers are much more gentle now. "Why was he on Tarsus?"

"Too much misbehaving, my mother said," Jared shrugs. "We have -" he swallows " had - an aunt and uncle there, so he went to stay with them. My mother didn't want to put up with him for a while, I guess, but she wasn't around much, anyway. He was never the same after that. Suppose when you see four thousand people butchered so that the other half can live, only to watch as it descends into anarchy will do that to you. Not to mention feeling like the Navy had written you off and taking their sweet ass time on a rescue. He left about a year after it all happened. Haven't seen or heard from him since." 

"I'm sorry," Shera says quietly. "I didn't hear much about the famine, of course, but from what I did? I'm sorry."

Jared nods in thanks. "Sometimes - sometimes kids see too much, you know? They don't know how to handle it. Can't put it into words. Can't be around people who don't understand. It's easier - it's easier to leave, I guess. Start fresh. Or I hope that's what he did, I don't know. I keep waiting for him to show up again but, well. It's been too long now, I think."

"You never know," Shera counters. Jared knows he's right on the money with her, judging by her understanding tone. "Don't give up on him just yet. There's no such thing as a timeline for recovery."

"You're right," Jared says purposefully, turning around, and she gives him a small smile in response.

"All done," she says as Jensen and Barr come back inside, Jensen fitting sharpened sticks from the backyard in the bag. He sets them down by the door and allows Shera to fit him with the other set of armor. Barr goes to sit by the couch, sighing, and Jared follows him, hopping onto the armchair, his feet dangling.

"The Chuins can annihilate you, no problem."

Barr jumps a bit at the blunt statement, then nods like he's been expecting that. "So why don't they?"

"Yeah."

"They don't want to," Barr says, lifting a shoulder. "This war has been going on for decades. They like holding power over us. If they kill us, they have nothing. Don't need to receive any aid or supplies from your people. They've survived long enough off of you - them -" he corrects at Jared's look - "that I don't think they'd have a clue how to live without them."

Jared doesn't answer, watching as Shera fits guards around Jensen's shins.

"I went once, to the border."

Jared blinks. "Yeah? What happened?"

Barr laughs; it's self-deprecating. "Not a damn thing. I thought about it. Thought about crossing over just to see what would happen. Didn't have any damn guts."

"It's not about that," Jared says. "It's self-preservation."

"Right, like what you're doing?"

"It's different," Jared shakes his head. "This is my duty. My job, man. I'm supposed to protect my crew."

"But they're not your crew," Barr says. "You were told by your superiors not to come, and yet you came anyway."

"Had to do it," Jared says simply. "And you can sit here all you want and regret what you've done - or haven't done - but honestly? There's no point. You're going _now_ , for people you just met _today_. That's pretty fucking awesome, dude." 

"I see why you're a head grunt," Barr mutters, but Jared's pretty sure he sees a smile on Barr's face before he turns away.

"Finished," Shera says, stepping back. Jensen nods at her and gives a slight bow.

"I will honor this armor," he says. "Thank you for allowing us to to -" he shakes his head. "Thank you."

Shera nods, and finally she and Barr get fitted quickly, making sure that there are no loose ends.

"Ready?" Jensen asks.

Jared gives the best shit-eating grin he can manage. "Let's do it."

"Shera says that we can take some of the vegetables from the garden out front," Jensen says. "I'll get some?"

"Sure," Jared says. The last meal he ate was eight hours ago, burned steak from the still malfunctioning replicator.

He's about to follow when he hears Barr and Shera talk from the kitchen.

"Don't tell me you're going because of May."

He shouldn't stay, he shouldn't eavesdrop: the only time Steven has ever yelled at him was when he listened in on a conversation between him and his mother after Sam left. Still, he lingers.

"I'm going to make sure you and Martel don't do something stupid," Shera says, but the answer is weak.

Barr sighs. "She's not coming back. Or if she does, it'll be of her own accord. It's no longer up to you."

"I know," Shera says. "I _know_."

"Okay," Barr says. "All right." Then there's nothing but the chink of armor.

:::

_I'd like to think you'd be proud of what I'm doing. You'd probably call me an ass munch, but you'd approve._

_I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not._

:::

Outside, Shera brings two animals around that would look like horses with the exception of webbed feet instead of hooves and ears the size of dinner plates. Not to mention that one actually smiles at Jared and kneels down, allowing him and Jensen to climb up. Jensen wraps his arms around Jared's waist, even though they're not moving particularly fast, but Jared's certainly not going to complain.

Behind Jensen sits a few packs, filled with insignificant items from Shera and Barr's place that they're trying to masquerade as supplies. As they swing by headquarters and pick up Martel, Jared realizes for the first time how this is without a doubt the stupidest plan he's ever come up with. He considers telling the others one last time to remain behind, as a plan with an almost zero percent success rate is certain to result in horrific consequences, but they look surprisingly content as they lead the way, the three of them sharing one animal like it's second nature to them. 

They're going to die for nothing, and he can't stop them.

Jensen rests his chin on Jared's shoulder. "Don't think like that."

Jared stares straight ahead. "I'm an idiot. We've got scraps of metal in some bags and five people with limited weapons. We're fucked."

"Probably," Jensen says, and Jared almost barks out a laugh. Jensen tightens his grip on Jared. "Would you rather have chosen to ignore the call in good conscience?"

"Of course not, but there must have been an alternative, something I missed -"

"Doesn't matter now," Jensen says. He shrugs. "If we die, we die. We won't die for nothing if we can manage to get the message to Steven and alert them of the situation. Save the planet and all." 

"Your optimism is strangely arousing."

Jensen actually laughs, and he brushes his lips against Jared's neck. "I think you'll find that I am very skilled in that area."

Jared swallows and prays extra hard for their survival.

WHAM!

Jared almost slides off, but he grips the animal with his knees; Jensen grabs his arm and pushes him forward.

"Circle around, circle around!" Barr yells.

Jared pulls on the reigns, forcing a double-back, narrowly avoiding the chomping of teeth; saliva coats his temple.

"What the hell?" Jared hollers back.

"A shushka," Barr shouts. "They're not too fast, so keep on circling around!"

"They seem pretty fast to me!" Barr-slow is definitely not Jared's idea of slow.

The shushka looks like some sort of mutation of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It's covered with scales, and spikes running up each arm. Whiskers. It climbs the surrounding trees with ease, leaping through the branches.

"Go," Jensen urges before Jared suddenly doesn't feel his presence anymore.

"The hell? Get back up here!"

Jensen rolls to his feet and brings the crossbow up to his eyes, releasing a bolt into the shushka's eye. It roars, shaking it off, then reaches up with its claws and pulls the bolt out, blood and plasma coming with it. Jensen shakes his head and slides in another bolt. The shushka jumps on the tree and sticks there; its tail swiping three trees by the trunk behind it out of its way. Seeing an opportunity, Jared slides off the animal, gives a shove to its hindquarters, and slings the rifle off his back. He catches the shushka's wounded eye in his crosshairs and pulls the trigger.

It falls from the tree but staggers to its feet; Jared growls under his breath.

"The neck!" Barr calls. "Go for the neck!"

Barr begins climbing a tree, which Jared thinks is fairly unwise, judging by how this huge motherfucker can apparently climb like a monkey. 

Jensen releases another bolt, which hits the shushka in the jaw. "Fuck!" he says, and Jared almost snickers at the expletive. The shushka moves, quickly, causing Jensen to barrel-roll right in front of Jared. Jared pushes him down, takes aim over his shoulder, and fires another shot. It takes a chunk of its neck but it still doesn't go down.

Barr tosses his hatchet; it would land where his Adam's apple would be. It roars again, staggering, and Shera ducks in close enough to slash at its leg, taking it clean off. It turns toward her, opening its jaws -

A flash of yellow and the next thing Jared knows, he sees Julie pointing her phaser right at the throat and pulling the trigger. It's still for a moment before red blossoms from the wound on its neck, and with one final stagger, it topples to the ground, Julie diving out of the way.

"It's about time," she pants, blowing her bangs off her forehead. "That fucker's been chasing me for the past three hours."

:::

Barr pulls the hatchet out while Jensen searches for his crossbow bolts. Shera puts her sword back in its sheath, ignoring the blood and looking at Julie, impressed.

"Where are Riley and Chad?" Jared asks.

"We got separated when that thing showed up," Julie points at the corpse. "But Jared, Riley was hurt pretty badly; he was losing a lot of blood."

"What happened?"

"He got speared by one of these fucking logs that apparently disguise themselves as tree branches," Julie says. All pretense of professionalism is gone. It's a good look on her. "Right in the side. I don't think it hit any vital organs but he was bleeding pretty steadily." She looks at Barr, then Shera. "Well, I guess the size of that tree branch makes a lot more sense now. So. Hi. I'm Julie."

"One of your crew?" Martel asks, although it's really not a question at all.

"Fuck," Jared sighs. He looks over at Jensen. "We've gotta go get Riley, man. And Chad. You haven't seen Chad?"

"Nope," Julie says. "I looked for him, but granted, I didn't get much time because of Riley. And then that thing came along."

"We don't have much time for the rest of the crew, either," Jensen says quietly. Devil's advocate.

"Barr's an excellent tracker," Martel says. "If he's bleeding as much as your crew member says, he should be easy to find."

"He can't have gotten far," Julie adds. "Mobility was a pretty significant issue."

"Okay," Jared says, thinking. He wonders how much time he can spare. "Julie, lead us to where you last saw Riley and we'll spread out, scout the area."

Julie's already nodding, but Barr holds up a hand.

"Let me go," he says. "The rest of you carry on. I'll track him and bring him back."

"Wait," Julie starts, then looks at Jared. Jared inclines his head. "I'm going, too. I'll show you where I last saw him. With all due respect, Captain, I'm not leaving him behind."

The determined look in her eyes is enough, coupled with the fact that solves the problem. "Barr?"

Barr hesitates, then presses his cheek against Shera's, then his forehead against Martel's. "Be safe," he whispers.

Neither of them reply, watching as Barr and Julie walk away. Jared sees Shera take Martel's hand, and he realizes that there's no way he's letting them come along.

He's always been pretty good on his own, anyway. With Jensen, he'll be even better.

He still knows they're going to die, but hopes he can make the call before they do.

:::

_So this may be the last time I - well. You always said I was a lucky bastard._

_Hope you're right._


	5. Chapter 5

Shera and Martel are quiet the rest of the trip; their equilibrium thrown off by Barr's absence.

"This is it," Shera finally says, dismounting. Jared would have figured it out, anyway: the difference between their land and the Chuins' land is clear. The foliage is brightly colorful; streams of orange, yellow and red paint the leaves. The trees are taller and darker, and already the smell is sweeter, lighter. Seeing the land so full of life in contrast to the death and decay of Shera's land makes Jared grit his teeth.

"Hold on," Shera says, holding up her hand. She holds it in front of her, slowly, inch by inch: her flesh starts to turn dark blue.

"What's going on?"

"The security barrier," Shera says, pulling her hand back and eying it. She shakes it out, and her skin fades back into its original color.

"It seems to be set so that only certain individuals can pass through," Jensen says. He sits on his heels. Then sets his index finger against the barrier.

"Jensen, fuck!"

The barrier shimmers, flashes yellow, but otherwise, there's no reaction. Jensen looks up.

"Yeah?"

"God," Jared sighs. "Don't do that."

"I hypothesized that Navy crew would not be repelled," Jensen says.

"I really don't care," Jared says. "How about you give us a minute to talk about it first?"

Martel frowns, reaches out with his own finger. He hisses when there's a shock, and yellow bubbles from the tip of his finger.

"What did I just say?" Jared spits. He reaches for his neck and pulls out his communicator. "Now how close are we?"

"Within distance," Martel says. He points at Shera and himself. "How are we supposed to cross over?" 

Jared gives Jensen a quick look; Jensen doesn't reply, but he's already guessed it.

"You're not."

"Excuse me?" Shera says through gritted teeth.

"You're not coming," Jared repeats. "I can't guarantee disabling the security system, but even if we can manage to do that, you won't make it out of here. We don't know how this system works; it might rip you to shreds if you try to cross." He points needlessly at Martel's still bleeding finger.

"You failed to mention that you were a soothsayer," Martel says, his tone borderline dangerous. 

"I'm sorry," Jared says simply. "You're not dying for our cause."

"It's not just your cause," Shera breathes. "This is our fight first. _Our_ planet. We deserve to fight with you!"

"I'm sorry," Jared repeats. "I promise you, I'm going to try to alert my superior of your situation and I know he'll help you end all of this. But if you come, you'll die, do you understand?"

Shera stares back at him, a sad, betrayed look in her eyes. "Maybe I'm all right with that."

Martel intakes a breath, but he doesn't contradict her.

"You've got Barr," Jared says. " _He's still here._ You've got your daughter; she might not be with you, but I know you hope she will be. You still okay with dying for nothing? Leaving them behind?"

She narrows her eyes, but Jared can tell he's hit home. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Find Barr," Jared says. "Find my crew. That's how you can help."

Her mouth tightens. "Don't die."

Jared cracks a grin. "Yes, ma'am."

Shera takes one long look at him before she turns, Martel following after her. Jared waits until they're out of sight before he pats Jensen's shoulder. 

"Ready?"

"Yes," Jensen says. "How long do you think we have until they come back?"

"No idea," Jared says, already moving. "Not long."

They step through the barrier, and it's like walking through a ghost: chilling, leaving him with a disorientation that steals his breath for a few moments. There's no alarm sounding, no screaming, but he understands that their presence is known.

Jensen moves in front of Jared, crossbow resting harmlessly by his side, while Jared pulls out his comm and flicks it on.

It works. Thank fuck, it works. It's a good start, he almost giggles helplessly. He dials, clutching it so tightly that Jensen pries his fingers loose.

"Jared?"

"Fuck," Jared breathes, sagging with relief at the sound of Steven's voice. "Steven. You've got my back, right? No matter what I tell you?"

Jared can almost hear Steven's frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Long story," Jared says, looking around. "Look, Heyerdahl's involved in some serious shit, man. Orion IV. Some Navy crew are captured and I'm with Jensen to try to bust them out."

"Wait, Heyerdahl? What?"

"I need you to send people you trust to help us. _Orion IV._ Heyerdahl fucked up here years ago and has been providing aid to keep it covered up. I'm talking a slaughter, man. I can't say much more; we're in enemy territory, but do you trust me?"

A clacking of keys. "Orion IV," Steven says brusquely, and Jared manages a smile. "Not too far, but it'll still take several hours to get there."

"Might be too late for Jensen and me," Jared says in response to the unasked question. "Tell your people to land on the west side and ask for Barr, Martel, or Shera. They'll be able to explain everything."

Steven repeats the names. "Got it. Sending three discreet ships your way. What are you planning to do?" 

"Kind of playing it by ear," Jared says, and he hesitates, knowing this is probably the last time he'll ever - "Thanks, man. I couldn't ask for a better -"

"Shut up," Steven interrupts. "You can't duck out of sight until help arrives?"

"Little late for that. They kind of know we're already here," Jared hurries. "Steven?"

"Don't die," Steven says, and Jared grins; Shera and Steven would get along quite well. "I need to kick your ass myself."

"Got it," Jared says, clicking the comm off.

"I didn't think it would take so long for them to arrive," Jensen says, looking around. "Interesting."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it," Jared answers, only slightly comforted by the weight of the rifle on his back. "Shouldn't be taking this long."

He pulls out his Navy comm and dials the _Sydney_ , but there's no response. 

"They're watching us," Jensen says, eyebrow furrowed. 

"How do you know?"

Jensen raises a hand, as if that should be answer enough, but Jared simply accepts it.

"Excuse me?" Jared calls out. "We're here to see Peya?"

Nothing.

"Come on," Jared mutters, starting to walk, and Jensen falls into step beside him. He should probably be shitting himself right now, but it's almost a little exhilarating. 

They only manage about ten steps before Jensen halts his steps. "Wait."

Jared obeys, seeing people coming their way. 

"Peya?"

"Yes," she says. She doesn't seem surprised to see them, which doesn't give Jared any confidence. "And who might you be?"

"Captain Neman," Jared says coolly. "I was sent to deliver supplies."

"Really," Peya draws out. "From whom?"

"Our superiors."

"Interesting, because Heyerdahl always contacts me ahead of time when he's sending supplies, Captain Padalecki."

Jensen stiffens.

Peya runs a finger over one of the spikes along her wrists. "You think I wouldn't have called Heyerdahl to investigate you once I was alerted that two Navy men were spotted in our territory?" She points behind her. "You think I'm that stupid?"

Jared straightens, steeling himself. "We weren't sent by Admiral Heyerdahl."

Peya frowns. "What?"

"Admiral Heyerdahl no longer has command of this planet," Jared continues. "I was sent here by Commodore Williams."

"Never heard of him," she says with a stuck out jaw, but her eyes look hesitant.

"Really?" Jared challenges. "Guess that shows where you fall on the hierarchy of things, doesn't it?"

Peya falters, looking them over. "Let's go," she says finally, nodding at the people toward her. For about the fourth time that day, they're grabbed by two goons and manhandled; Jensen makes a face, and Jared can't help but glare at the arm gripping Jensen's bicep.

"Put them away," Peya says, waving the goons ahead.

The one holding Jared hesitates. "With the others?"

"No," Peya says, a tiny smile curling her lips, and Jared jolts.

They're alive. Oh, shit, they're _alive_. 

Now he and Jensen need to stay alive for a few more hours. No problem. No problem at all.

:::

This prison is much different. Cleaner. Metal, not brick. Even the smell is relatively pleasant, although Jared can't really say that he's excited to be here. Their feet clack against the floor. No windows; the walls shimmer with each step they take.

The Chuins are a little rough, leaving finger shaped bruises on Jared's arm, and they're thrown into a cell. Jensen stumbles, a hand flying to his temple, and Jared's own head is throbbing.

"I have to say," Jensen mumbles, "we never went to the brig under Captain Williams."

"Sorry to disappoint," Jared sighs, sinking to the floor and resting his head against the wall.

"You are a great captain," Jensen says abruptly. "Even if almost dying is a frequent occurrence."

"Thanks," Jared says. "I think."

"Really," Jensen says. "You're great." Suddenly he's very close, his breath hot on Jared's jaw. "Very, very great."

Jared's breath catches. "Thanks," he repeats stupidly; Jensen's hand is on the side of his neck, then fingers trail under Jared's shirt. Hot touch, sending tingles up Jared's spine, and the next thing he knows, Jensen's on his lap.

"Um, is this the time?"

"Might not be another," Jensen whispers along Jared's collarbone, and then his lips are on Jared's, careful, precise, like everything else Jensen does. He tastes as good as Jared imagined he would be, a little sweet, and Jared's mind goes hazy for a moment, but -

"Hey," Jared breathes into Jensen's mouth, and he has to gather all of his strength to lift Jensen away. "Not that I, uh, don't want to, but -"

"I'm sorry," Jensen says, climbing off of Jared's lap, the tips of his ears red. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Jared doesn't let him withdraw; he tugs Jensen back to his side, arm around his waist. "Trust me, I like what you were thinking. I'd just rather not do it with guards around the corner in some prison, you know? Not exactly sexy."

"Agree to disagree," Jensen shrugs, but he grins against Jared's shoulder. Jared kisses his head and sighs.

"After this, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you have no idea."

"After this," Jensen echoes. "Sure."

Suddenly, Jared feels very cold, and he tugs Jensen closer.

:::

Peya returns alone, to Jared's surprise, and she leads them to another room with a table and chairs: an interrogation room of sorts. Jared hops on one of the chairs, letting his legs dangle in a show of nonchalance. He schools his face blank. Jensen climbs on the chair behind him, quiet.

Peya sits down across from Jared, letting her arms rest on the table. "Anything you want to clarify before you proceed?"

"Nope."

She claps her fingers together. "See, I think you're lying."

"What, you're going to torture it out of me?"

"Not you," she says. "Perhaps one of your crew members? Or that first officer of yours?"

Jared tries not to let the threat bother him, but his face grows hot. His first year as an officer, he had to watch a "training" session in which a newly appointed captain had to undergo a torture simulation. It was one of the worst experiences of his life, the screaming, the pleading; he nearly puked afterward and had nightmares for the next several weeks. He could do it himself, he knows it, but if he had to watch someone else go through it? Especially Jensen?

He'd cave. 

"And you realize that if you do this, you're damning yourself. You'll without a doubt sever all ties with the Navy."

"So you say," Peya says. "But all I see are two little officers who are very far from home. Very out of their element. I think if an accident were to happen, nobody would blink an eye." 

Jared takes a careful breath. "Hail Commodore Williams himself."

She stares at him, cold. "I hailed Heyerdahl. He has no idea what you're talking about."

"Heyerdahl is being quietly investigated."

"Convenient," she remarks, but she chews on her lip.

"Believe what you want."

"Well, then," she says. "Too bad you'll be dead before anyone can show up to confirm this for sure."

"You can't kill us," Jared explodes. "You'd be in deep shit."

Peya raises an eyebrow. "Who said anything about me killing you?"

Jensen blinks. "Pardon?"

She leans forward. "I said that _I_ wasn't going to kill you. Your crew is going to kill you."

:::

"She said what I thought she said, right?"

Jensen shoots him a look. "Pretty sure, yes."

They're being marched ( _again_ , goddamn it, they're going to end up with permanent bruises if they get out of this) down another long hallway. There's a sort of bustle that Jared remembers when he stepped on board for his first day on the _Sydney_ ; the air is practically vibrating with energy. Faint cheers down the hall, the stomping of feet. Peya walks ahead of them, her back straight and head up.

When they reach the end of the tunnel, Peya turns around. Grins. She pulls out a bag and opens it.

"Normally each person only gets one, but I'll be extra nice and give you two apiece. Well, one for you, first officer. I'll let you keep the crossbow. It's a nice touch; I like it."

Jared watches as she pulls out daggers, still in their sheath. She holds them out and Jared takes them, looking them over. Pulls them out.

"Don't even think about it," Peya says, and there's a click of a phaser behind them. Jensen's given his own, but he makes no move to do anything other than hold it.

"Why are you giving us these?"

"So you can attempt to protect yourselves," Peya answers. "I'm not _that_ inhumane."

"Should I even ask what we're supposed to be protecting ourselves from?" Jared mutters to Jensen.

Jensen frowns. "I'm not sure I want to know. Wait, how many bolts do I have left?"

Jared looks over Jensen's back, counting. "Six."

"Wish I had more," Jensen mumbles.

"Right, because that's the problem here. Not having enough carved sticks."

"Those carved sticks saved your ass, didn't they?"

"As I remember -"

"I'm sorry," Peya cuts in. "Am I interrupting something? Perhaps I can come back later?"

Jared slams his mouth closed. 

"I thought this ending would be fitting for you," she says. "I imagine that I could have sold you and gotten a decent price for you, pretty little things that you are, but I have to respect your perserverance."

Before Jared can ask, she opens the door behind her, and Jared squints against the brightness; the loud cheering nearly bowls him over, and Jensen lets out a soft noise.

It's the amphitheater that Hona mentioned, and it's filled to the brim with people, stomping and shouting and screaming insults. 

"Oh, fuck," Jared says. So much for staying alive for a few more hours.

Peya's goons push them inside, the phaser poking Jared in the small of his back. It takes a second for him to realize who the people are on the ground floor, but when he does, he curses again.

Jared doesn't personally recognize each of them. He had a class with Katie Cassidy during his second semester; she looks nothing like she did then. She has parallel cuts on her jaw. Her eyes are bloodshot, giving her an eerie appearance. Baring her teeth, she takes a step closer to them, and there's not one sign of her recognizing him at all.

"Whoa," Jared says, holding up his hands. "Katie, hey. We're here to help you, okay?" He looks around at the crew they're supposed to be rescuing; they're all watching him with the same expression. He takes a few steps back, wincing as his movements draw attention. "Jensen?"

"Poisoned, maybe," Jensen says, keeping himself still. "Look at their pupils; their breathing."

Matt comes close enough that Jared can see something stuck in his teeth, but Jared doesn't want to begin to guess what it is. Matt sniffs. He smiles.

_Your crew is going to kill you._

"What did you do?"

"What we do with all stragglers," Peya says. "Use them for experimentation. Medical purposes, usually. Sometimes, well. They don't turn out the way we'd like, so we have to find...alternatives."

Jared tightens his grip on his dagger. "I'm not killing them."

"Very noble of you," Peya says. "Although I have to say, I'm really not sure how you've stayed alive so long with that attitude. Eat or be eaten, my boy."

"Maybe in your world," Jared mutters.

Peya shrugs. "If you'd prefer to die passively by their hands, that's all right. It'll still be entertaining. Unfortunately, they'll die. They were hurt, you see, when they landed here. We were only trying to help them, but our medical supplies weren't up to par. We tried to stop them from killing you, but I had to protect my own people first and foremost." She bares her teeth. "I'm sure the Navy will understand that."

The door closes behind them, and the crowd erupts with applause, even louder than before.

"We're fucked, aren't we?" Jared says.

"We might be," Jensen says, almost conversationally. Then he's moving in front of Jared, dagger unsheathed. Jared stares at the crossbow on his back.

"Don't kill them," Jared hisses.

Jensen looks over his shoulder. "I won't," he says. "Unless I have to."

Jensen's a natural fighter, but it's still ten against two. Jared automatically goes back-to-back with Jensen, Jensen pulling the crossbow in front of him. Matt leaps toward them and they manage to dodge out of the way; Jensen shoots a bolt right into Matt's ankle. He goes down with a growl, and Jensen reloads with one quick movement, firing another bolt into Katie's shoulder. 

Jared can't hear the crowd anymore: he focuses only on Jensen, knowing Jensen's every move, where he is, making sure to be within touching distance. 

"Left!" Jensen yells, and Jared rolls out of the way when a tiny blonde launches for him. He slashes her thigh, avoiding her femoral artery, and kicks her out of the way. Another person takes her place before he can take his next breath, and he cranes his neck to avoid the sharpened teeth, landing a powerful uppercut to the guy's jaw. As the guy goes down, he elbows Jared in the mouth, a white hot pain that pisses Jared off more than anything.

Jensen shouts, a sharp sound of pain, and Jared crawls out from under the body.

"Jensen?" he screams, but Jensen waves his hand; one finger is nearly severed. Already his movements are slowing. He stumbles, nearly falling to his knees, and Jared throws his dagger at the guy coming from behind Jensen, hitting the guy in the knee. Jared continues to crawl; he's defenseless now, gotta get the dagger, get Jensen's crossbow, get _Jensen_ -

Suddenly, there's a huge boom that shakes the theater, and Jared's vision goes hazy for a moment. People are shouting all around them, Jensen included, _Sydney, try the Sydney,_ and Jared's fingers fumble for his comm and manage to dial the ship.

"There you are, fuck," Danneel says, and Jared has never been more grateful to hear her voice. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Seriously?" Jared pants, dodging a phaser blast, holy shit, where did that come from? "You're going to ask me that now?"

"True," Danneel says. "We're trying really hard not to die right now."

"...what?"

"Some asshole is after us," Danneel says, then shouts. "Hey! _Left_ , fuck face!"

"I'm trying the best I can!" Jared hears Misha shout. "For fuck's sake, I'm an engineer, not a pilot!"

Jared spits out a tooth. "Look, just - just stay alive, okay? We're kind of fucked down here ourselves."

Misha laughs. "Sure, no problem! What an easy command to follow! We've only taken forty percent damage; we can last a little while longer."

"We got this," Danneel cuts in, sounding confident. "I had to make a call for backup, sorry, Jared. They should be here soon. Hang tight, guys."

"Who did you call?" Jared shouts.

"I called -" Danneel begins, sounding confused, but then she gets cut off. Jared curses and puts his comm back in his pocket.

People spill out of their seats onto the stage, and Jared quickly loses track of Jensen; he pushes people out of the way, but more take their place until he's nearly suffocating.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" he shouts, kicking knees and Achilles tendons left and right until he's cleared enough of a path to duck out of the theater.

A slight pain to his knee and he's down. With a blink, Jared sees his own dagger in a young woman's hand - Adrianne, _Adrianne_ \- and he doesn't bother wasting any breath trying to snap her out of it. He rolls from underneath her but she's quicker, the dagger to his throat, and with one swift move she slashes him: not too deep, but she goes in for another try -

Her own neck is exposed, and he hates that he even entertains the thought but he has to; Jared wraps his hands around it and starts to squeeze. Her eyes widen, then she goes limp against him. For a second Jared stupidly thinks it shouldn't have happened that quickly, but then a hand suddenly grabs his, a hand his size, and he clutches it tightly, hoping it's Jensen's. After a moment he realizes it's soft, too soft: it belongs to a girl, teenager, maybe, with hair the same shade of Shera's and eyes as dark as Martel's.

"Come on," she hisses, and Jared manages to grab his dagger from Adrianne's limp grip before he does so, stumbling as she tugs him along.

"What the hell is going on?" he spits out, wincing at the burn in his throat. He's bleeding, but it's not bad enough to warrant his concern at the moment.

"I blew the security system," she pants. "Things went to hell fast, shit."

"Wait," Jared says as his head starts to clear. " _Wait_ , my crew is still back there, my first officer -"

"You want to get blown up?" She tugs at him at him again. "Come on, I've got a place we can regroup."

" _No_ ," Jared says, locking his knees; he ends up taking them both down. "I'm not leaving without them!"

"You're no good to them dead!" she explodes, hands curled into fists. "I'm not asking you to abandon them; I'm telling you that you need to fucking _regroup_!" 

Jared rests on all fours, breathing out through his nose. "Regroup with _what_ , exactly?"

The girl barks out a laugh that sends chills down Jared's spine. "They're raiding the armory as we speak."

"They?"

"The Fragiles," the girl says in a way that Jared can hear the capitalization. "The people who brought you here," she adds in a tone Jared can't interpret. "They've already killed a good amount of Chuins; they are _pissed._ "

Her smile now is frightening, eerily similar to Peya's as she shut the door behind them in the amphitheater.

"Where's the armory?" Jared says, pressing a hand to his throat. "I'll load up and can come back -"

"There won't be anything left," the girl says simply. She clutches her phaser tightly, eyes dark. I'm bringing them down. Every last one of them, I don't care if I go with them. They've ruined enough, ruined everything -"

Another blast, and Jared struggles to his feet, taking a good look at her, the familiar stance, the determined face. The eyes. The hair.

"May?"

Her eyes widen. "How did you know?" Her stance turns defensive, and Jared's very aware of the phaser in her hand.

"Your folks," Jared says, holding out his hands, the blood running freely down his neck now. "Shera, Martel. Barr. They're the ones who brought me here. You - you look _just_ like them."

Her mouth thins and she looks down. "Yeah," she says. "They're my folks."

"Come on," Jared says gently. "Let's find the others and go kick some ass, okay? Then we can find your family for you -"

"I can't go back," May says, her voice wobbly. "I can't."

"They miss you. They want you back."

"I can't," she repeats, shaking her head. "I can't look at them - you don't know what I did."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter to them," Jared says, wanting to pat her shoulder in reassurance, but he knows better by the caged look in her eyes. "They want you to come back."

"I _killed_ people," she chokes out. "Dozens of people. I had to kill a little boy's father right in front of him. Can you tell me that's okay?"

"Self-defense," Jared guesses gently - correctly, judging by how her eyes well up. "None of this is your fault. You're a kid forced into war. It wasn't your choice."

"Maybe not, but I still did it," May says, and already she's schooling her face blank once more. "I can't go back with people knowing that about me."

"You can't live here by yourself, either. How have you managed it?"

"I've done it for two years now," she retorts, then shrugs. "The Chuins leave me alone. Think it's funny, I guess, being so fucked up on my own. They could kill me easily if they wanted to. Sometimes I wish they would." 

She sounds so much like Shera that Jared's stomach clenches. She's so fucking young. "None of that, okay? One step at a time. Easy, right?"

"Sure," May says. "Easy." She grabs his biceps and tugs him back down to the ground, going completely still. Jared quickly realizes why; he can't see anyone but he knows they're not alone anymore, and she's listening carefully. "It's fine," she says, releasing him. "Fragiles."

Jared doesn't bother to ask how she knows, trusting her trained ears. "I'm going with them," he says. "You need to find someone to take you out of here."

Her jaw falls open. "I'm not going with anyone," she says. "I don't _need_ anybody to do anything for me."

Jared's already standing by the time the others show up - Fragiles being the absolute last thing he'd call them - and to no surprise, Barr's at the front of the pack. 

"My shuttle crew?" he asks immediately, and Barr nods at him. 

"Taken care of," he says. "Three were wounded so they've remained behind with our medic, but the other -"

Julie darts from behind him. "Let's go," she says with a firm nod. There's a rocket strapped to her back and yet she's somehow remaining upright with ease. "I'm so ready to get out of here, if that's okay with you, Cap."

"I like her," Barr says with a grin.

When Jared turns around to find May, she's gone. He shouldn't be surprised, but he's still disappointed. "May blew the security system," he says.

Barr freezes, eyes wide. "What?" 

Julie frowns at both of them. "No offense, but we're wasting time?"

"Later," Jared promises. "We'll find her."

Barr nods wordlessly, and he kneels down so that Julie can climb on his back. "You, too," he says, voice determined now, and before he knows it Jared's sitting on Barr's shoulder.

It goes dark for a second; when Jared looks up, he sees Heyerdahl's ship flying in overhead, momentarily covering the sun, and he curses under his breath. Barr starts sprinting and Jared nearly slips off until he grabs Barr's neck.

He pulls out his comm and rings Steven. "Where are your guys, man?"

"Oh, hey, you're still alive," Steven answers, but Jared can hear the relief. "Twenty minutes out, now what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Heyerdahl's here," Jared says. "I'm riding on top of a giant and we're about to head into the amphitheater to find our zombie crew and get the fuck out of here."

"Right," Steven says after a pause. "Okay. Can you make it twenty more minutes?"

"Hopefully," Jared says. "Would you mind re-routing our aid to the east side, perhaps?"

Steven mutters something about Jared's parentage under his breath. "Twenty minutes," he repeats, and Jared cuts the connection, dialing the _Sydney._ When there's no answer he tucks it back in his pocket and hears May's words in his head.

_I'm bringing them down._

:::

Half the amphitheater is in pieces when they get back; a huge crack divides the middle, maybe four feet of distance between the two sides. Barr sets Jared and Julie down right by the entrance and sprints inside, his feet automatically jumping over the bodies littering the hallway.

"Wow," Julie murmurs, looking at them. She looks guilty as she speaks, but: "any of them ours?"

Jared shakes his head once, in denial rather than negation, and takes off after Barr, weaving in and out as the others stream in. He's weaponless except for his dagger, but somehow he's never been more confident.

First glance reveals no sign of the crew, Jensen included, and Jared breathes out a _fuck_. Heyerdahl's crew has already landed, and they're shooting anybody, Chuin or not. Jared ducks down, his blade in his hand, staring at Heyerdahl's neck. He has near perfect aim, his mother having taught him starting at age six with her own throwing knives, but something keeps his hand still, the grip on the handle loose. 

"You can't do one simple thing," Heyerdahl says, cold eyes staring into Peya's. Hers are wide, frightened, and trained on Heyerdahl's phaser. "Fucking _useless_ , now I'm going to have to kill -"

His face freezes and he topples over; Peya stares him, dumbfounded, before she follows suit, her body falling in a tangle of limbs. Jared spins around, his eyes following the trail of the phaser's blast to see a bearded man, his face hiding underneath an old ball cap, but Jared would recognize him anywhere.

"Cutting it close, aren't you Beaver?"

Beaver shakes his head at Jared. "The fuck you get yourself into?" he shouts, and a laugh slips out of Jared's mouth before he can stop it. Jim grins back at him then ducks a phaser blast; he tosses Jared a spare before he sprints, taking out two Chuins with one blast. All eighty of Jared's old crew surround the stage, leaping over the unconscious bodies with ease.

"Get the Navy crew out of here!" Jared shouts. 

Lauren, his old comm officer, gives him a thumbs up and pulls some of the crew aside, pointing at the downed team. They heft each body over their shoulders and stagger for the exit while Jared and Beaver cover them. Jared has to force himself not to watch, making sure his phaser doesn't hit any Navy or Barr's crew.

It could be minutes, could be hours, but the dust actually settles, the roaring grows quieter. Jared coughs, finding himself on his knees in exhaustion. His neck starts to bleed again but Jared doesn't pay it any mind; he squints up when he sees boots stop in front of him.

"You," Danneel says, one hand on her hip, her hair still tied up neatly in her ponytail, "are a dumbass."

Jared licks his lips; they've gone painfully dry. "The crew?"

"All alive," Danneel confirms, brushing her fingers over his neck. He winces. "Stunned. I mean, torn and bruised to shit, but they're all going to make it. Who speared Katie? She's going to be so pissed."

"Jensen," Jared says, pushing her hand away. "Jensen?"

"Stunned, too," Danneel says, almost apologetically. "He tried to eat Misha's face, though, so. Not that I blame him, zombie or not."

Jared can't find it in him to laugh at that. "Is he going to be okay? Everyone?"

Danneel's smile falters a little. "Jeff's confident he can separate the toxins. He's already taken some blood and is checking it out in sickbay."

Jared nods and allows Danneel to pull him to his feet; he relies on her steady weight for a moment before pulling away. So many still bodies in front of him (stunned or still in death, he doesn't know), but he circles around, scanning the area.

"Thank fuck," he says when he sees Barr and Shera together, kneeling in front of May, her phaser neglected on the ground by her feet. Neither one is touching her, even though it looks like that's all they want to do. Jared gives them a moment, not wanting to interfere, but Barr looks up and catches his gaze, heading his way.

"Kind of glad I shot you down with the rocket now," Barr says. His nose is crooked, broken. "No offense."

"You're paying for that shuttle, fucker. I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is."

God, so much trouble.

By now, Martel's made it inside the theater. He's crying as he runs toward May, unable to resist the urge to touch her face. She flinches, then stills, her face crumpling as Martel lifts her off the ground in a hug. She resists at first before going limp, not quite hugging him back but accepting it.

Not wanting to keep Barr away for any longer, Jared tosses him the _Sydney_ communicator. "I'll check in on you from time to time."

Barr catches it, a little grin on his face, and he nods. "You do that."

Jared turns to go, then hesitates. "Thanks. And tell the others -"

"I will," Barr interrupts. "Go take care of your crew. Martel brought the others to one of the ships. They should be all right."

Jared reaches out for a handshake, his hand engulfed in Barr's huge one. "Got it," he says, and he watches as Barr goes back to his little family, putting an arm around Shera.

Jared's ready to meet up with his own. He follows Danneel - who had been watching the interaction quietly - outside and into the ship. Beaver waits for him by the door.

"We're staying behind for now," he says, gesturing outside. "Committee's sending some of the other admirals and IR folks. Get ready because this shit's about to get ugly. Well, uglier.”

"Thanks," Jared says. "Seriously. You saved our asses."

"Pretty much," Beaver says. "What the hell were you thinking, marching in there on your own? And don't give me that sacrifice shit."

"I'll see you back at home," Jared says, patting his shoulder and making his way to the bridge. 

Half of the scientist department waits for him outside of the bridge. He waves them back to work, gives them a _let Jeff do his job, I'll update you on Jensen ASAP_ , and they drag their feet back down to their floor. Weatherly takes an extra moment and Jared can't decipher the look on his face, but it makes Jared grit his teeth. 

"Hey," Jared says to one of his security personnel once Weatherly's gone, "Cupcake. Come here."

"Don't call me 'Cupcake'," Clif grumbles, but he obeys. "What's up?"

"Tail Weatherly for me, will you? Until we land."

"All right," Clif says slowly. "Any particular reason I should know about?"

"Only that he'll be packing his bags and getting the fuck off my ship once we get back," Jared says, keeping his tone even to the best of his ability. "Just – keep an eye on him?"

Clif gives a salute. "Yes, sir," he says, and he heads to the lift.

One obstacle down, Jared continues on his way to the bridge: some of the stations are spitting out smoke and he smells burnt rubber, but all the necessary parts look to be in working condition.

"Sandy? Cindy?"

"Sir, yes sir," Cindy says. "Everyone's ready and accounted for."

"By the way, you have a few messages, Captain," Danneel says, taking her seat. "Sixty-two, to be precise."

Jared barks out a laugh. "Let's sit on those."

"Sure," Danneel says. "Why not? We've already ignored them for a few hours, what's -"

"Thanks," Jared interrupts, pulling up sick bay. "Jeff?"

"You fucker. You stupid, arrogant, piece of shit."

"Hey, Jeff."

"I'm going to -"

"Rip me a new asshole, I get it." Jared sobers. "What's going on with the crew?"

Jeff blows out a breath. "Managed an antidote; they'll be fine. Lots of rest, of course. Not to mention the mending of torn flesh and broken bones you and Jensen caused."

"I had to, man."

"I know," Jeff says. "You're not the only person I've yelled at, believe me. I mean, being unconscious hasn't made it very effective, but I'm sure Jensen's huge brain absorbed it anyway."

"So he's okay?"

"He'll be fine," Jeff says, a little too knowingly for Jared's liking. "They'll probably be waking up in a bit." 

"Thanks," Jared sighs, sagging back in his chair. They've made it. They've _made_ it.

"Can't afford to ignore another one, Captain," Danneel warns from her station. "It's Admiral Ferris again."

Jared rubs his eyes. "Might as well get it over with. Put her on."

Ferris' face isn't as angry as he thought it would be, but it's not exactly sunshine and rainbows, either.

"You've got a lot to answer for, Captain Padalecki," Ferris warns. "Disobeyed direct orders, accused an admiral of conspiracy and treason. You're to report to us immediately."

"Yes, Admiral," Jared says. 

"I told you not to fuck it up."

"I know."

"ETA?"

"En route," Jared sighs. He's really fucking tired. "Sandy?"

She's bruised, disheveled, but her smile is as bright as ever. "Yes, sir. Eighteen hours."

"Eighteen hours," Jared repeats to Ferris. "I'll be right in."

Ferris nods. "Acceptable." She pauses, then smiles. "Good work, Padalecki."

Jared's a little stunned, and he stares at the blank screen. 

"Huh," Danneel says into the silence. 

:::

Jared remains on the bridge for a few hours, letting himself catch his breath while the ship soars through space. Everyone looks exhausted but determined, and he resolves to himself that they're getting a damn good bit of shore leave once they get back. (If they're not fired, anyway.)

"All right," Cindy says finally, not turning around. "Go check on sickbay, I can hear you pining from here. Misha's on his way back up to take the conn; you look like shit."

"Go _sleep_ ," Sandy confirms.

"But -"

"Seriously, go," Danneel says with a roll of her eyes. "You're making me sick already."

With a stupid grin, Jared gives them a sloppy salute, stumbling out of his chair. His vision is a little blurry but he manages to hit the button for the right floor in the lift. People litter the hallways and they pat his shoulder as he walks by; he acknowledges them with a smile, and they seem to know to move out of the way. He almost lets out a laugh as he rests against the doorframe of sickbay.

"You're impressed. Admit it."

"I am not."

"I kicked ass." Jensen holds up his hands and mocks holding a crossbow. " _Ass._ I shot this huge - thingy. With _claws._ "

"Sure you did," Jeff says, amused. He pats Jensen's shoulder. "Sure you did, champ."

Jensen whines; it's so fucking cute that Jared cracks a grin. "You don't believe me."

"I'll vouch for you."

Jensen spins around so fast that he nearly topples out of bed. "Jared?"

"You are so stoned," Jared laughs, sitting on Jensen's bed. Jensen automatically rolls into his side.

"Maybe," Jensen mutters into Jared's shoulder. "I got bitten by a zombie."

"That's because you were too slow."

Jensen looks up and glares; he misses Jared by a few inches. "I took out more of them you did. Like, eight times more. I took out eight, you zero. Zero."

"Bullshit. I took out like, twelve."

"Sure you did," Jensen mumbles. His fingers find Jared's torn neck. "Fix this, Jeffy."

"Fuckin' zombies," Jeff says under his breath. "It looks all right; stopped bleeding on its own and everything. I'll slap some salve on it."

"You're all heart, _Jeffy_ ," Jared says. He takes Jensen's hand away from his neck. "How's your friend?"

Jensen blinks up at him, then gestures to a man in the bed closest to Jeff's office. "He's gonna be okay," he says with a soft smile. "He told me I was a dumbass when he woke up for eight seconds which is a great sign."

Jared smiles and kisses his temple. "That's good."

Jensen nods and lays his head on Jared's shoulder. 

"Is he sleeping on me?"

Jeff chuckles. "Looks like."

"My dear doctor, is it acceptable if we go back to my rooms? I don't think this is the best place for an adequate recuperation."

Jeff stares at him for a moment before turning and walking away.

"Hey." Jared pokes Jensen on the cheek. "Yo. We're leaving."

Jensen makes a sound like _mrgh_ and doesn't move. 

"Come on, get up."

"I was a zombie, Jared," Jensen mutters, his eyes still closed. "A _zombie._ Fuck you, I'm sleeping."

"You can sleep. Just not here."

"Carry me."

"I am not carrying you."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Jared rolls his eyes, stands up, and scoops Jensen up in his arms. Jensen flails briefly before going limp, rubbing his cheek against Jared's shirt, one arm dangling. He's not nearly as heavy as Jared thought he would be, but he pretends to juggle Jensen as if to drop him. Jensen makes a protesting sound and turns in Jared's arms, as if he wants to climb up Jared's chest.

Jared snorts and slings Jensen over his shoulder in a fireman's carry instead. Jensen laughs, his dangling hand finding Jared's ass and giving it a pinch.

" _Hey_!"

"Heh," Jensen says, then he goes limp, snoring slightly on Jared's shoulder.

:::

When Jared wakes up in his own bed, he groans to himself: his own body is sore, his head throbs, and he's pretty sure there's drool on his neck. 

"That better be you, Jensen."

"Zombie drool," Jensen sighs. "Bottle that shit."

Jared chuckles. "You're kind of hilarious on meds."

Jensen pries an eye open. "Wore off."

"Hmm," Jared says, stroking Jensen's spine. "We should probably discuss what we're going to tell the admiral committee, huh?"

"Maybe," Jensen says. He rubs his eye, blinking. "Not exactly what I had in mind, though. We've got, what -" he squints at the clock - "six hours?"

"Holy shit," Jared says, sitting up; Jensen makes a sound of protest as he falls back on the bed. "We slept for ten hours?"

"More like nine hours and twenty-seven minutes."

"Oh," Jared says, flopping back on the bed. "Well, _that's_ not so bad." He blames his sleepy, stupid brain for what he says next. "What did you have in mind?"

Jensen gives him a wolfish grin: it should look out of place on his face, but it somehow suits him just fine. He tugs on the hem of Jared's shirt. "You don't remember what you promised me back in Peya's prison?" 

Jared swallows, his hand automatically trailing down Jensen's back. "Uh. I remember."

"Good," Jensen says, smiling against Jared's neck and placing a kiss on his collarbone. He pulls Jared's shirt over his head, slowly biting on Jared's hipbone, his belly, his chest. His mouth is hot, sending heat right to Jared's spine, but he's moving too slowly; wrapping his hands around the small of Jensen's back, Jared pulls Jensen on top of him, chest to chest, lifting his hips. Jensen breathes out a _whoa_ against Jared's mouth, his cock hardening against Jared's. Jared smiles while he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off his legs.

Jensen may typically be quieter than most, but he's _loud_ in bed, little gasps of breath when Jared touches him in all the right places, and Jared grins, flipping Jensen on his back to discover each one. Jensen squirms, whines, mutters a muffled curse when Jared palms his cock and sucks on his neck.

"You're so easy," Jared murmurs. "Look at you. I barely have to touch you."

"Shut up," Jensen huffs. "Shut up and fuck me already."

"No," Jared says slowly. "I don't think I'm going to. I want to see how long you can last."

"Fuck you asshole, fuck, _shit stop do it_ -"

"Nope," Jared says, then tugs Jensen's pants down with his teeth. He nuzzles Jensen's cock, kissing the tip. It twitches and fills, bobbing against Jared's chin. "Pretty," Jared breathes, trailing his fingers along Jensen's thighs. "So pretty."

"Don't call me that," Jensen says through gritted teeth.

"It's okay," Jared says, kissing Jensen's hip, ignoring how Jensen grabs his hair and pushes him down. "I am, too."

"Pretty," Jensen echoes, and when Jared looks up he sees a small, delighted smile on Jensen's lips. Suddenly Jared wants to feel that smile against his own lips, and he crawls back up Jensen's body and kisses him slowly, Jensen making a soft sound of appreciation before opening his mouth. Jensen wraps his legs around Jared's waist to pull him flush against his body. "See how long I can _last_ , my ass."

Jared laughs and snaps his hips; Jensen digs his nails into Jared's bare back, his eyes flying open. Jared swallows the sounds from Jensen's mouth, sucking on his tongue and increasing the speed of his hips until Jensen starts to swear profusely, his legs falling away from Jared's waist. Sweat trickles down Jared's temples, it's so fucking _hot_ , the combination of the adrenaline and Jensen's body heat nearly overwhelming. His vision grows dim until all he can sense is the strain of his own cock as he ruts against Jensen's, and for a brief, hysterical moment he thinks that this was all worth it just for this one moment.

Jensen lets out a soft sound when he comes hot against Jared's stomach, his eyes slipping shut. "Come on," he murmurs, cupping Jared's cheek and running his index finger along Jared's bottom lip. Jared's mouth automatically opens to suck on his finger, running his tongue along the side, enjoying Jensen's deep exhale, his body shuddering. "Let me feel you, mark me as yours -"

Jared growls and grinds down so hard that he pushes Jensen up the bed, nearly banging Jensen's head off the headboard; Jensen almost makes a content sound as Jared comes all over his thighs, his eyes still closed, his hair damp with sweat. All strength gone, Jared lets himself go, trusting Jensen to support his weight. Jensen doesn't even make a sound when Jared falls on top of him; he strokes Jared's hair and kisses his chin.

"Still want to talk about the admiral meeting?"

Jared yawns, smiles. "Think it can wait another hour."

Jensen hums in agreement and licks his lips. "Gonna fuck you when we get back."

Jared's dick gives a weak twitch. "Not fair," he mumbles, turning on his side and stroking Jensen's spine.

Jared's about to drop off to sleep when his PADD buzzes on the nightstand. Careful not to disturb Jensen, he leans over and picks it up. 

_[unknown number.]_

Jared frowns and clicks the message open.

_Nice job, ass munch._

Jared intakes a breath, running his fingers over the words on the screen.

"What?" Jensen mumbles, leaning over. "Who's it from?"

Jared silently shows him the message, unable to keep a stupid grin off his face.

Jensen lifts an eyebrow. "Why are you so happy about someone calling you an ass munch?"

Jared lets his head fall back and laughs. "Because it's fucking awesome, Jensen. Because it's fucking awesome."


End file.
